QLFC season 4
by littlebluespacemoth
Summary: I'm putting all of my entries for QLFC in this fic. Check them out, they're pretty fantastical ;). Rated T as always
1. A Day in the Life of Peter Pettigrew

**So I'm doing the thing again. (For those of you who don't know, the 'thing' is QLFC and this year, I'm chaser #1 on the Wasps)**

 _ **Anyway**_ **I was supposed to w** **rite about a death eater at home, and I think I did a pretty good job. Just a warning, it's kind of crack-ish.**

 **Prompts:**

 **(Dialogue) "I really do like the pants."**

 **(Word) Espresso**

 **(dialogue) "If you don't eat your vegetables, you can't have any pudding."**

 **DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the other references I made in here.**

* * *

Peter Pettigrew had decided that today was the day he was going to spend at home. Today, he was going to take a staycation.

He had owled Lord Voldemort after his morning espresso, claiming that he was sneezing up blobs of gelatin. In actuality, Peter was fine, though he did stay up late last night coughing up chocolate pudding.

After weeding his garden and digging up some potatoes and radishes for supper that night, Peter took a bath.

Of course, being in the I-just-graduated-so-I'm-poor-and-I-can't-live-

with-my-friends-because-then-they'll-know-I'm-a-Death-Eater situation, Peter didn't have a bathtub. So instead, he would transform into his rat-form and bathe in the cup he used for his morning espresso. He used a tea kettle to warm the water, a bit of dish soap to make bubbles, and an old toothbrush to scrub himself clean.

As the animagus lounged in the teacup, he realized that his owl, Bertha, had dropped off the morning post. He finished his bath, dried off and turned back into a human. He didn't bother to change into clothes- he had decided that later, he would go through his winter wardrobe.

The morning post consisted of The Daily Prophet, an invite to Sirius and Remus's wedding, and a postcard from his mum, detailing her vacation in the south of France. Tossing the postcard aside and deciding to look at the invite later, Peter began to read The Daily Prophet, noting that while The Daily Prophet did have a fascinating article on the extinction of stuffed elephants, there was a surprising lack of Quidditch. Was the Quidditch season over? He didn't think so.

Instead of an article detailing the latest game of Quidditch, there was an article about how most of the Quidditch players were missing, or something. Peter, however, couldn't find it in himself to care.

Leaving the newspaper on the table, Peter decided it was time to start sifting through his clothes. It was beginning to grow cold, and he wanted to switch out his spring and summer wardrobe for his fall and winter one.

It took him one hour, fifty-three minutes and forty-two seconds precisely to try on all of his shirts; an hour and eleven minutes to try on pants; forty four minutes to try on all of his jackets and shoes. Towards the end, he was trying to decide if he wanted to keep the pair of pink and brown checkered jeans his mother had sent him for his birthday.

"Well," he murmured, "I really do like the pants. They're quite comfy, and they make my ass look rather fantastic. Although, Sirius would literally die laughing if he saw me wearing these…"

In the end, he decided to wear the jeans for the rest of the day and then throw them away.

The chubby wizard decided to spend the rest of the day cleaning. He used magic, of course, but even with the convenience of cleaning spells it took ages. The shack he was living in was dusty, and none of the dust bunnies were eager to leave. In the end, he captured them in several shoeboxes, sealed them shut with a bit of magic, and threw them in the dumpster. Dust bunnies were a pain in the ass. If they weren't taken care of, they would reproduce until your house was flooded. Peter's cousin had once forgotten to get rid of them before going on a two week trip. When he had returned, there were dust bunnies spilling out of the chimney.

As it came to be supper time, Peter prepared himself a small dinner of mashed potatoes and radishes. He also cooked himself a nice, fat pork sausage, which was devoured within the first two minutes of his meal. The potatoes and radishes, however, took a little while longer to eat.

"Come on, Peter," he muttered, trying to encourage himself. "If you don't eat your vegetables, you can't have any pudding."

He managed to get through the radishes. The potatoes were another story.

"I wonder if I have any molasses," he muttered, standing up from the table and wandering over to the cupboard. Luckily for Peter, there was a small jug of molasses hidden behind the jar of jellied salamander eyes. It was barely enough to cover his mashed potatoes, but he figured it would have to do.

With the molasses on his potatoes, he devoured the mash, enjoying the strange but wonderful combination of potatoes and molasses.

"Well," he burped, "how about that pudding?"

The chocolate pudding that he had coughed up the other night was stored in the fridge and looked delicious as ever.

He gobbled down the pudding in a few short minutes. After doing so, he almost became bored, except, there was a strange rumbling sound coming from outside, which he just couldn't ignore.

Peter peeked out the window, hoping that it wasn't someone important.

It wasn't.

It was something much more exhilarating than anything one could have ever imagined. He stepped outside to get a better view.

There, right in front of his house, was a stampede of stuffed elephants. There were pink ones, blue ones, purple ones, spotted ones, striped ones. No two elephants were alike, the only thing they all had in common was that they were enormous and there seemed to be people riding on their backs.

The wizard squinted his eyes, not quite believing what he was seeing. Could it be…? No, this couldn't be right. Peter had to be going crazy.

There, riding on the backs of the elephants, were all the missing Quidditch players. One Quidditch player per elephant, and they seemed to be… enjoying themselves? How did this happen?

Peter would've gotten his explanation had he actually tried to investigate. It would've been easy to go over and shout up to one of the players and ask what was going on. He even could have looked at The Daily Prophet article, but he decided that would have been too much work. Today was his staycation, and he wanted to end the day sitting in his chair with a cup of tea and his new adult romance novel, so that was what he was going to do.

After thoroughly enjoying the first few chapters of My Throbbing Passion, he fell into a dreamless sleep. It had been a good day.

* * *

 **I referenced Over the Garden Wall, by the way. Gold stars to those of you who got that. Also, a gigantic thank you to my lovely team members for helping me with this.**

 **Leave a review please!**

 **~Al**


	2. Hangover Potions and Butt Jokes

**Hello my lovelies! This is part of the thingy thing! If you've forgotten, I am chaser #1 for the Wasps! This round I got to write about someone doing their homework for the subject, and the Wasp's subject was Astronomy.**

 **Prompts  
** **1.(word) Hangover  
** **2.(dialogue) "This was the most fun I've ever had"  
** **15.(dialogue) "It happened again, what do I do?"**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing (except for a nice pair of socks)**

* * *

 **Hangover Potions and Butt Jokes**

Draco was currently suffering through one of the most horrendous, harrowing hangovers anyone, Muggles and wizards alike, had ever experienced.

No, he wasn't exaggerating.

No, he couldn't take a hangover potion. He was allergic to beets, one of the main ingredients in said potion.

Draco wouldn't even have bothered getting out of bed today, but he had a paper on Uranus due tonight for Astronomy.

It wasn't hard to find a few books in the Astronomy section of the Library to get started on his research. Draco decided that the thin, purple book was the best one to look at first. He wasn't sure of the title, as it was hidden under a layer of dust, but he was positive the book was about Uranus.

As soon as he tried to walk away with it, the book flew out of his hands and back to its place on the bookshelf.

"What the heck?" he muttered. Draco was positive that books didn't have the ability to look smug, but somehow, this one managed to do so.

"Alright, let's try this again." He grabbed the book off the shelf and held it tight to his chest, but again, the book flew out of his hands and back to its spot.

"It happened again, what do I do?"

"Having trouble with something, Malfoy?" came a voice from behind him. Draco whirled around to see the bloody Boy-Who-Lived watching him, eyebrow quirked, and a slight smile gracing his face.

The Slytherin sighed. He wasn't up for dealing with Potter's shit. "Somehow, Potter, I don't think it's any of your business," he snapped.

Potter looked taken aback. "Hey, I just wanted to help. Some of the books are a little tricky to handle, and Hermione's developed tricks for nearly all of them."

 _You want to help? Why?_ Draco thought, though he didn't say anything. He just scowled and crossed his arms.

"Oh, don't be so stubborn. Now, which book do you want?"

The grey-eyed boy rolled his eyes, but gave in. "The thin, purple one. About Uranus."

"Uranus, eh?"

"Potter, I swear to Merlin, if you make any butt jokes-"

"Okay, okay, I won't. But, Malfoy, it is Astronomy. _ASS_ tronomy."

Draco huffed. "I hate you," he muttered.

Potter ignored him. "Did you know that Uranus is tilted to one side because it got hit hard from behind?"

"Potter!"

"Fine, fine. The book. It's this one, yeah?" Potter pointed at the purple textbook. Draco nodded.

The other wizard pulled the book down from the shelf. "I don't see what trouble you were having with it," he said as he began to walk down the aisle. Draco turned to follow him, massaging his temple. Potter's cheery mood was not helping his hangover.

However, after not taking more than two steps, the book flew out of Potter's hands and nearly smacked Draco in the head as it flew back to its spot on the bookshelf.

"Oh, come on," Draco groaned.

"Huh," Potter grunted. "Well, I don't know what to do."

Draco huffed. "Brilliant," he moaned. "Just fucking brilliant."

"Hey, it's not _that_ bad."

"Yes, it is. I'm suffering through the worst hangover in existence and I have to write a stupid paper on Uranus by tonight! I hate Uranus!"

"You're not even properly acquainted with my anus!"

"Again with the butt jokes?"

"Sorry," Potter blushed. "I do have a hangover potion, though."

"You just carry around hangover potions? Aren't you a bit young to be an alcoholic?"

The shorter boy shrugged. "Ever since the war ended, people have either been celebrating or drowning their sorrows in alcohol. Either way, they show up to breakfast in desperate need of a hangover potion, so I always carry around a couple in my bag. I'm sure I have one, if you want it."

"Can't," Draco said, "I'm allergic to beets."

The Boy-Who-Lived blinked. "And I hate the taste of butterscotch, which is why I buy an off-brand version. It works just the same, has no beets, and tastes like cinnamon! Here." Draco took the vial from the Gryffindor, eyeing it suspiciously.

"Go on, it won't hurt you," Potter encouraged.

"Against my better judgement, I'm going to trust you," Draco announced before uncorking the vial and drinking the potion in one gulp. The cinnamon taste was nice, and the potion instantly relieved him of his hangover.

"Thanks, Potter. Now, what am I going to do about that book?"

"Why can't you just use another book?"

Draco looked at Potter like he was crazy. "Because honor," he said.

Potter sighed. "Alright… Hey, have you tried asking?"

"Asking the librarian?"

"No, the book."

"Of all the crazy things you've said, I think this might be one of the craziest."

"No, I'm serious. Trust me."

"Why should I?"

"You trusted me with the hangover potion."

Draco didn't respond for a minute. "Why can't _you_ ask the book?" he finally asked.

"Because," Potter said, "I'm not the one who wants to use it."

Draco huffed and crossed his arms. "Fine. I'll ask the bloody book." He turned his attention to the book and, feeling rather ridiculous, he asked, "May I use you for my project?"

The book didn't do anything, so, not know if that was a good sign or a bad one, Draco removed the book from the shelf then tried to walk away. Like every other time, the book flew back to its spot on the shelf.

"Fucking damn it!" Draco swore. Potter frowned.

"Funny," he said, "that usually works."

"Well, it didn't this time, Potter," Draco sneered.

"No need to be so testy, Malfoy."

The blonde pouted.

"What's the book about, anyway?" Potter asked.

"Uranus," Draco responded.

Thankfully, the other wizard didn't make any butt jokes, though he did ask, "What type of information about Uranus?"

Draco blinked. "I- I'll admit that I don't know."

"Why don't you check before you work yourself into a fit trying to get the book off the shelf?"

"Huh," Draco grunted. "You would think I'd have thought of that."

He cautiously took the book off the shelf and opened it on the first page. The title read, _101 Jokes About Uranus_.

Draco let out a long string of curses before he burst out laughing.

"Malfoy?" Potter asked cautiously. "Are you okay?"

"Peachy keen," Draco responded, fat tears rolling down his cheeks as he laughed himself into a mess. "I have to say, this was the most fun I've ever had. In the library, that is. Coincidentally, it was also the biggest waste of time, but I guess that's life." He let out a long sigh, his laughter coming to an end, as sank to the floor, his knees curled up to his chest.

After several minutes of silence, he let out a quiet, "I'm fucked," and banged his head back against the shelf.

Potter knelt beside him. "Hey," he said, "there are other books."

Draco looked at the Gryffindor, bewildered. Potter shifted, uncomfortable under the Slytherin's intense stare.

Suddenly, Draco sprang forward, tackling Potter with a hug.

"Umph!" Potter grunted, as he fell back to the floor.

"You really are the Saviour!" Draco squealed. He stood up and brushed the imaginary dust off his clothes. After helping the other up, he selected a couple of other books on Uranus and set off to start his essay.

The only problem was that the Boy-Who-Lived decided to follow him.

Sure, Potter had been helpful, but Draco had just thought that it was his hero complex. This was turning into sixth year, but this time, Potter was being more obvious about his stalking.

Draco hoped that when he sat down and began to work on his essay, Potter would go away.

That didn't happen.

After an introductory paragraph and half of the first main body paragraph, Potter still hadn't left. Instead, he was sitting across from Draco, working on what looked like a Charms assignment.

"Potter," Draco said softly. The Boy-Who-Lived looked up, blinking.

"Yes?"

"Why are you still here?"

Potter blushed. "I'm working on my homework, like you are."

"Yes, I see that, but… there are other tables."

Somehow, Potter's face turned even more red. "Oh. I- I can move." He stood up to move.

"No!" Draco exclaimed. "No, you can stay, I was just wondering why you wanted to sit with me. I mean, we've never really gotten along."

"I- I know," Potter stammered, "but the war is over, and everybody's trying to move on. I thought that it might be easier if you and I were to make amends and become friends."

"While that does sound lovely, I don't know if either of us would be able to let go of our history."

"We'll never know until we try."

Draco thought about this. "Fine," he said, "we'll give it a go. Now, if you don't mind, I really need to get my Astronomy homework done."

Potter smiled, and Draco went back to his essay. The day had not gone how he planned, but perhaps it was for the better.

* * *

 **Thanks to my lovely team mates for helping to edit this monster.**

 **Please leave a review!**

 **~Al (littlebluespacemoth)**


	3. Wasps and Whatnot

**Well this round was interesting. And stressful. For those of you who aren't American high school students, Round 3 fell exactly during AP testing. Two weeks where those of us taking AP classes (AP = advanced placement (not like 'honors' or whatever. Like, college level classes.)) take 4-5 hour exams covering everything learned over the year in order to gain like, college credit or something. I don't even know. All I know is that they suck. So considering how much of a headache I have right now, this piece turned out really well (and this is mainly because I have fantastical teammates who beta'd the crap out of this thing. I am seriously grateful to all of them. If I could, I'd bake them each their own pie or something)**

 **Fair warning, there are lesbians. And bugs. And if you don't like either of those things, then this fic probably isn't for you and I recommend you find something else to read (except you, my dear judge. You're stuck with my madness) (although if you don't like lesbians and bugs then you need to reevaluate your life) (btw, please keep in mind that my mind is made of macaroni right now, so you can ignore most of this. Except for this next part, it's actually important.)**

 **Prompts and stuff:**  
 **-2251-2500 word count**  
 **-Wasp(s)**  
 **-(dialogue) "Sometimes I really dislike you."**  
 **-(color) Lilac**  
 **-(occasion) First day at school**

 **Word count is officially 2,416 (in a word document)**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing**

* * *

 **Wasps and Whatnot**

It was Pansy's first day of school.

Or rather, it was her first night back at Hogwarts since the war ended. Classes would officially start tomorrow.

Headmistress McGonagall had invited everyone in her year back to repeat their seventh year.

Originally, she had told herself that she wasn't ever going to return; it was her girlfriend who had convinced her to come back.

After the war, Pansy had spent all summer helping to rebuild Hogwarts. It was her way of apologizing to the school for the horrors it had been through. It was during that time she became acquainted with Luna.

Of course, she had known who Luna was, but before the reconstruction she had referred to her as 'Looney Lovegood' due to her eccentric ways.

It was at the end of the summer when they had gotten together. Pansy had helped Luna dye her hair a lilac color and, after she helped wash out the excess dye, the two had kissed.

The next day, Luna had convinced Pansy to return to Hogwarts so she could complete her education.

Pansy had been adamant at first, but the other girl had been persistent.

" _Please? Think of all the fun we'll have!" Luna begged._

" _Because you can have so much fun while getting jinxed."_

" _I won't let them jinx you. Cross my heart," Luna promised, tracing a cross over her heart._

" _My knight in shining armour."_

" _Please, Pansy?" Luna begged, gazing at her pleadingly. Hers was a face that was difficult to say no to._

 _Pansy sighed. "Sometimes I really dislike you. I guess I'm returning to Hogwarts, after all."_

So far, she hadn't been hexed. Probably because McGonagall had preached house unity at the sorting.

After the sorting, Pansy made her way over to Ravenclaw Tower. As she approached the tower, she noticed a buzzing noise. It sounded like… bees?

Deciding not to investigate, Pansy continued on her way and almost made it to the tower. However, before she reached her destination, someone crashed into her.

"Oomph!" she grunted when the body collided with hers. They both fell to the floor, the other person landing on top of her.

When she saw who it was, she smiled.

"Oh," said the person on top of her. "Hello, Pansy."

"Hey, babe," Pansy replied, giving Luna a peck on the nose.

"Were you coming to visit me?" the lilac-haired girl asked.

"Yup," Pansy nodded, wrapping her arms around Luna and kissing her thoroughly.

"While you being on top of me is always a good idea," said the Slytherin when she pulled away, "I think it would be a better idea for us to stand up and continue this on a more comfortable surface."

"Oh," Luna blinked, "sorry about that." She hopped to her feet and helped her girlfriend up.

"So, what were you doing, running in the halls like that?" Pansy inquired.

"I was coming to see you. I wanted to show you something."

"Really? What?"

"Come with me." Luna grabbed Pansy's hand and dragged her up the stairs, straight into her dorm room. She gently picked something up from her desk.

"Look!" she said proudly, holding out her cupped hands.

"That's a…" Pansy was sure she wasn't seeing this right.

"A wasp! I named him Winston!"

No, what she was seeing was real. Her girlfriend was holding a large and rather frightening wasp.

"Winston?"

"Yup."

"Luna, where did you find a wasp?"

"Oh, I didn't find Winston; he found me."

"Right." Pansy massaged her temple. Of course, her girlfriend would have a pet wasp. "Hasn't he stung you?"

"Oh, no," Luna laughed. "Winston's a sweetheart. He'd never sting me."

"Would he sting me?"

"I don't know," Luna said thoughtfully. "I don't think so."

"Good to know. So, he's your pet?"

"Merlin, no. Winston's my friend! He's free to come and go as he likes."

"Of course. Silly me," said Pansy. Winston flew off Luna's finger and onto the door knob.

"You have to leave?" Luna asked the wasp, opening the door. "Thanks for stopping by."

Winston flew out the door, and Luna gave a small wave goodbye.

"Well," the lilac-haired girl turned around, "alone at last." She pounced on Pansy, kissing her enthusiastically. Pansy moaned, melting under Luna's touch as the two girls fell back onto the bed.

Pansy didn't return to her dorm room that night.

The next morning at breakfast, McGonagall made an announcement.

"Attention, students. There is a wasp nest located in the corridor to the left of the Ravenclaw Tower. We're having a bit of difficulty removing the nest from the hallway, and these wasps… there is something unusual about them. So, for now, the hallway is off limits until we can relocate the nest."

There was a moment of silence before the Great Hall was filled with noise as the students discussed the news.

"Well," Pansy muttered to herself, "that explains where Winston came from, at least."

It wasn't long before Luna came skipping over to the Slytherin table.

"Oh, isn't it wonderful?" she asked after giving Pansy a kiss hello.

"What?"

"Winston has a home! And a family! I thought he was all alone."

"Oh," Pansy frowned. "Luna," she began tentatively, a sinking feeling in her stomach, "what do you suppose they're going to do with the wasp nest?"

"I haven't a clue. But they won't harm the wasps, or their home- I'm sure of it."

"Well, what about when they find a new location for the wasps' nest? I don't know if you'll be able to see Winston again."

"Oh, he'll come and visit," she said, waving her hand, as if that would wave away Pansy's worry. "I know I only met him yesterday, but we've become close friends."

Pansy forced a smile. "Right."

She wasn't looking forward to when they'd 'relocate' the wasp nest.

It wasn't hard to avoid the corridor left to Ravenclaw Tower. Especially since Pansy didn't like wasps.

Not even Winston.

After lunch, Pansy was cornered by a number of third year Hufflepuffs.

"Listen up, dyke," said the freckled boy. He seemed to be the group's leader.

"Dyke. Such an original insult. I'm quivering in my boots," Pansy drawled, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Shut up. You don't deserve to be here, Death Eater scum."

"What are you going to do about it? Jelly-Legs Jinx me? Pathetic," Pansy snarled. Inside, she was scared. She _was_ Death Eater scum. These third years had every right to hate her; to beat her until she was near death, or even worse, actually dead. Death Eater scum like herself didn't deserve a second chance.

Before anything too serious could have happened, Winston flew onto the scene.

"A wasp!" one of the third years in the back shrieked.

Winston landed on Pansy's shoulder. She looked down at the bug.

"Not just any wasp," she said smugly. "Winston the wasp. My friend." She looked up. "He's willing to sting anyone who bothers me."

The leader frowned. "You're bluffing."

"Want to try me? McGonagall already said that there was something unusual about these wasps. Want to be the first to find out what?"

The Hufflepuff frowned. "You win this time, bitch. But that wasp won't always be here to protect you. They're going to figure out how to relocate that nest, and when they do, we're going to get you."

"Oh, I'm so scared," Pansy drawled. "Now scram!"

The group of Hufflepuffs fled. Pansy looked down at Winston.

Maybe this wasp wasn't so bad, especially considering that a few seconds later, Luna appeared.

"Oh, there you are, Winston!" She turned her attention to Pansy and said, "We were playing hide and seek, and I see that he's found you. Of course, I found him, so I'm not sure who wins."

"I think I win, because I found you," Pansy said, blushing immediately after. It was the cheesiest thing that Pansy had ever said, and she would've smacked herself for it if Luna hadn't leaned in and kissed her.

Later, at dinner, McGonagall announced that they had a plan to exterminate the wasps. Most students cheered. Luna looked troubled.

Pansy excused herself and made her way over to the Ravenclaw table.

"Oh, Pansy!" Luna exclaimed when she saw her girlfriend sitting down next to her. "They're going to _exterminate_ the wasps!"

"I know, babe," Pansy murmured, wrapping her arm around the smaller girl and kissing her temple.

"What are we going to do?"

"I don't know if we can do anything."

"But what about Winston?" Luna fretted.

Pansy frowned. "Maybe we can talk to McGonagall. We could see if the nest could be… I don't know, relocated to the Forbidden Forest, or something. All kinds of animals live there, after all."

"Do you think she'd listen?"

"I don't know, babe, but we can always try. We'll talk to her when we're done eating, yeah?"

"Okay!" Luna smiled. "But… stay here?"

"Gladly."

As soon as they had finished their meal, and the two slices of cherry pie that followed, Luna hopped up from the table and dragged the other girl through the halls before skidding to a stop in front of the gargoyle that guarded the doors of McGonagall's office.

"Bubblegum," she said, and the gargoyle let her in. They began to climb the stairs, Pansy struggling to keep up with the determined girl.

"You can't exterminate the wasps nest!" Luna exclaimed as she burst into the Headmistress's office.

Headmistress McGonagall looked up from the papers on her desk, obviously alarmed. "Excuse me?" she demanded.

"Headmistress," Pansy began, grabbing a hold of Luna's hand, as if that would keep her anchored, "we would like to request that the wasp nest be relocated instead of exterminated. Maybe it could be moved to the Forbidden Forest instead?"

The Headmistress frowned. "We thought of that, but we don't know how the other animals will react. We don't know if it would be safe to keep these wasps close to the school; if a student got stung, we wouldn't know what the venom would do."

"That's absurd!" Pansy exclaimed. "You're just going to murder a bunch of innocent wasps?"

"I apologize if we come across as rude, Headmistress," Luna continued, "but there are so many different types of animals living in the Forbidden Forest, even deadly ones, and the forest is huge! Surely, there must be a place for these wasps to live."  
"I suppose I could look into it…" the Headmistress frowned. "Perhaps Hagrid would know of a spot."

"Pansy and I would love to help!" Luna half-shouted. Pansy turned to her, startled.

"We would?" she asked.

"Yes," Luna said firmly.

"Alright, I guess we would."

"I suppose, after class tomorrow, you two could accompany Hagrid into the Forest to look for a spot. Provided that Hagrid is willing, of course."

"Fantastic!" Luna beamed. "Winston will have a new home!" She twirled around and flounced out of the office.

"Winston?" McGonagall inquired politely.

"Her pet wasp," Pansy explained and followed her girlfriend out before McGonagall could ask any more questions.

Her girlfriend was waiting for her at the bottom of the staircase.

"This is wonderful!" Luna exclaimed. "Winston's going to have a new home, and the opportunity to make new friends; he's going to be in the forest so we can visit him whenever we want! I can't wait to talk to Hagrid!"

"We could go and talk to him now," Pansy suggested. "As long as we're back before curfew."

"Brilliant!" Luna beamed. "Let's go!" She grabbed Pansy's hand and pulled her through the castle, weaving through the small groups of students cluttered in the different hallways.

"Slow down, slow down!" Pansy laughed, trying to keep up with the enthusiastic girl. "My feet don't move that fast!"

Luna slowed down, but only a little bit, and by the time they were outside the castle, Pansy was out of breath. _Very_ out of breath.

"Hang on," she wheezed, bending over and resting her hands on her knees. "Just… let me catch my breath." She let out a long gush of air and looked up at her girlfriend, who was bouncing on her toes.

"How do you have so much energy?" she asked.

"What do you mean?"

"You're always so… bubbly." Pansy's attempts at an adequate description were futile. There was no way she could she could put into words how her girlfriend appeared to be a pure ball of energy.

"I'm sorry," Luna apologized.

"No, don't be sorry. It's a good thing."

Luna smiled before grabbing Pansy's hand and forced her to skip the rest of the way to Hagrid's. If it had been anyone else, Pansy would've pulled away and smacked them. Honestly, who had ever seen a Slytherin skip? She shook her head fondly; Luna was special.

Soon, they reached Hagrid's hut and knocked on the door.

"Hagrid!" Luna attacked the large man with a hug when he opened the door.

"Hello, Luna," he grunted. "Who's your friend?"

"This is Pansy," she said, "I was telling you about her the other week."

"Oh, right," Hagrid said. "Nice ta meet ya, Pansy. Come inside, I'll set the kettle on the fire. Anythin' I can do for yah?"

"The wasp nest, in the hallway near Ravenclaw Tower," Luna began.

Hagrid interrupted her. "Oh, yeah. Shame what they're doin' to it. I don't think the wasps should be killed."

"That's the thing," Pansy spoke up. "Headmistress McGonagall has allowed us to try and find a spot to relocate the nest. Tomorrow, sometime between classes and dinner, if you're willing, the three of us could go and find a spot in the Forbidden Forest for the nest to be relocated."

The bushy-haired man beamed. "That's wonderful! I'll bring Fang along. I'm sure we'll find a spot for those wasps."

The two girls stayed at Hagrid's hut until it became close to curfew. They strolled back to the castle, hand in hand, quietly chatting.

"The best part," Luna said, "is that we'll know exactly where Winston will be living. Isn't that marvelous? We'll can visit him whenever we want."

"It is marvelous," Pansy agreed. "All of this is marvelous. I can't imagine a better way for the school year to have started."

"Were you scared?"

Pansy hesitated. "I was… but I knew you would protect me, and if I ever got hurt you would patch me back up. You truly are my knight in shining armor."

Luna beamed and gave her girlfriend a long kiss. "Come back to my room?" she asked.

"Gladly."

* * *

 **Thanks for reading (and putting up with that crazy mess of an author's note. If you read that, I'm sending you a pie as well. It will arrive the twenty second of Octember).  
** **The best type of criticism is left in a review (so leave one, yeah?)**

 **~Al (littlebluespacemoth)**


	4. Of Mysteries and Pies

**This round was interesting to write (I feel like I say that at the beginning of every round, but it's true). We got to choose a magical creature to write about, and me being a swimmer, I went with Merpeople (even though competitive swim has absolutely nothing to do with this fic).**

 **Prompts:  
** **-Merperson  
** **-(genre) mystery  
** **-(dialogue) "I'll survive. I always do."  
** **-(word) frigid**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

* * *

 **Of Mysteries and Pies**

The name's Ward. Bennett Ward. I'm a detective, and like any typical detective, I wear a funny hat, smoke a pipe (well, I pretend to, see, smoking pipes underwater doesn't really work), and have a peculiar accent. Unlike other detectives, I live at the bottom of a lake, the Great Lake at Hogwarts. Perhaps you've heard of it.

Why do merpeople need a detective? Aren't we all just innocent, adorable sea creatures who just spend their days combing their hair with forks and conversing with seagulls? Sorry to disappoint you, but this isn't _The Little Mermaid_. There are plenty of merpeople who commit crimes, and it's my job to solve them.

"Ward," comes the soft voice of my partner, interrupting my inner monologue.

"Yes?" I ask, giving her my full attention. Serenity is a quiet mermaid, she rarely talks to me unless we are on a case, so when she does speak, it is important to pay attention.

"There's a woman at the door."

"Oh. Oh, good! Come in!" I shout, hoping she can hear me. The door opens to reveal a mermaid wearing a fancy hat and carrying a small handbag. She is _gorgeous_.

"What can I do for you, my dear lady?" I ask, sitting up in my seat.

"Oh, Detective Ward, it's tragic, it is."

"What is?"

"There are humans-" she begins.

"Yes?" I lean forward.

"And… they're…"

"Go on," I encourage. I'm on the edge of my seat.

"They're at the bottom of the lake!" she blurts.

I fall out of my chair.

"That's not a case!" I exclaim from my spot on the floor.

The mer-lady looks shocked. "Yes, it is!"

"Sorry, lady," I say as I use my desk to force myself upright. "I only solve mysteries, and it's only a mystery if a crime's been committed. A couple of humans at the bottom of our lake is unusual, yes, but it's neither a crime nor a mystery."

"It is a crime if they're unconscious and tied up! Furthermore, the man who put them there, well, I don't think he had permission," she says, her voice dropping to a whisper.

"Why didn't you say that in the first place?" I bark. "Serenity, we've got to go investigate right away. Where are the humans located?"

"Over by Gyles's Seaweed Farm."

I blink. "Grab my coat, Serenity."

She nods.

"Of course, they would be in the most frigid part of the lake," I mutter to myself as I look for my bag.

"It's on the ceiling fan," Serenity says, pointing up.

"How'd it get up there? Why the bloody hell do we even have a ceiling fan underwater anyway?"

"You had a little too much to drink and..." she begins to explain.

"Which question are you answering?"

She blinks. "Both, I believe."

I huff and turn my attention to the mer-lady, who's watching our exchange with mild interest. "Well, we're definitely going to check it out; if you come back tonight, I can give you an update."

"Oh, yes. Thank you, Mr. Ward. Just… be careful."

"Oh, I'll survive. I always do," I say, giving her a cheeky wink and my most charming smile.

She swoons, and Serenity shuts the door in her face.

"Well, that was uncalled for."

"Was it?" Serenity asks, her face showing no expression.

"Yes."

"Oh, well."

"Who was that anyway?" I ask.

Serenity raises an eyebrow before scowling. "Ida Banks," she says. "We went to college together."

"You know her?"

"I know her as the whore who stole my pie!"

I'm startled at her strong language, but I choose not comment. Instead, I ask: "Are you sure it was her? She seems too nice to commit such an atrocious crime."

"Yes," Serenity says with such conviction that I can't help but believe her.

There's an awkward pause.

"Well… I guess we should go check out those humans," Serenity mumbles. Her voice has returned to being soft, and I have a feeling that she won't be saying much for the next few hours.

We swim over to Gyles's Seaweed Farm, the water frigid as ever, only to find that there really are humans tied up and unconscious at the bottom of our lake- four of them to be exact. What's even more shocking is that they're being guarded by our own kind.

"What's going on?" I ask. They all turn their attention to me.

"Detective Ward," says the one I recognize to be Derek, the famous seahorse jockey (not to mention, the merman of my dreams), "is it really any of your business?"

"...Yes?" I turn to Serenity and she gives me what I think is supposed to be an encouraging smile. "Yes," I say with more confidence. "It really is. Why are there humans tied up and unconscious at the bottom of our lake, and whose idea was it to put them next to Gyles's Seaweed Farm? We all know that the type of weed he plants isn't _sea_ weed, if you catch my drift."

"Dumbledore put them here." One of the smaller ones from the back speaks up.

"Dumbledore?" I exclaim. They all nod. "Well… Well, I…" I wasn't sure what to say, but I couldn't tell _them_ that.

"Did he get permission?" Serenity asks.

"He got permission from Charlie, but I don't think Charlie was in his right mind, if you know what I mean," says Derek.

I cross my arms and huff in frustration. "Well, that doesn't count. He should've asked the Council of the Merpeople for a permit and then waited two to five weeks for a response."

"Oh, he had a permit," one says, "but it was just a piece of parchment that said, 'I do what I want.'"

"But that doesn't count!" I whine. I take off my funny hat and run my fingers through my thin hair as I try to think. "Do you know why he tied up four unconscious humans at the bottom of the lake next to a weed farm?"

"Said something about a tournament…?" Derek says, unsure. He turns to the others for affirmation. "Yeah, a tournament."

Serenity snaps her fingers. "The Triwizard Tournament!" she blurts out.

"What?" I ask, shocked that she said something.

"What?" echoes every other merperson.

"The Triwizard Tournament! This must be one of the tasks!"

There is a moment of silence as that settles in.

"But shouldn't there be three wizards at the bottom of the lake, then? I mean, it's the _Tri_ wizard Tournament," Derek says.

"That's very true," I comment, deep in thought. "Were you all here when the humans arrived?"

They all nod.

"What did Dumbledore say? After he showed you his 'permit'?"

"He told us to guard the humans, and that there would be other humans down in a bit to rescue them."

"Are you trying to prevent the ones tied up from being rescued?"

"...I think so," Derek said uncertainly.

"Well," I say, "I think that it would be best if you pretended to guard them, but after putting up a convincing fight, you let them be rescued."

"Ward, wouldn't that just be giving Dumbledore what he wanted?" Serenity asks.

"Yeah. So?"

"So… so you can't let him get away with doing this! He broke one of our rules!"

"Oh, I'm not going to let him get away with this," I claim, twiddling my thumbs. "But I can't let these humans be harmed because then _I'd_ get into trouble." I turn my attention to the group of merpeople.

"Well, I've got to go write a couple of strongly worded letters. Thank you for your input, and remember, no harm can come to these humans. They must be rescued, but be sure to put up a fight." I turn and swim away.

"Ward," Serenity asks when she catches up, "why is it important for them to put up a fight?"

"Because, my dear girl, I'd rather have our people attack them so they're more focused defending themselves and completing the task. If they were to attack our people, out of pride or fear, then there is a higher chance of someone getting hurt. I'd rather our people have a bit of control over the situation."

"It sounds like you're trying to convince yourself, rather than the reader," Serenity says softly.

"Serenity!" I scold, "You can't just go around breaking the fourth wall like that!" I drop my voice back down to a whisper. "But, you should know it was I who gave the old coot permission to tie up the four humans and leave them at the bottom of the lake!"

"Why?" Her eyes narrowed. "He's got something on you, hasn't he?"

"...Not at all."

She smirked. "He's got a copy of that picture, hasn't he? The one where you're dressed up in drag?"

"He most certainly does not!" I exclaim, but it's clear to the both of us that I'm lying.

Back at the office, as I'm filing a report and writing a letter to the Council of the Merpeople, the door flies open and Ida Banks bursts into the room.

"Oh, Detective Ward!" she exclaims, draping herself over my desk. "Have you solved the mystery?"

"Well, we solved a couple things."

"Like what?"

"Well, we know who put them at the bottom of the lake, and why they're there, and what will happen to them. And we know that it was all done without the proper credentials, so I'm currently writing a letter to the Head Councilman, so he can sort the issue out and administer the proper punishment."

"Oh, Detective Ward, how can I ever repay you for your service?" Ida asks. From the look in her eye and her position on my desk, it's clear that she wants me. I almost suggest dinner at my place, but I remember Serenity. On one hand, it's been forever since I've enjoyed the company of a merwoman, but on the other hand, I've made such progress with Serenity. She actually talked to me multiple times today!

It was a difficult choice, but in the end I decide that maintaining a positive relationship with my work partner is more important than getting laid.

"You could buy me and my assistant pies," I suggest.

Ida blanches. Clearly, my proposition wasn't the one she was expecting. She slides off my desk.

"Pies?"

"Uh huh."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Why don't you pop down to the bakery and pick up a water pepper pie for me, and a… well, what type of pie do you want, Serenity?"

"Duckweed."

"Yes, a water pepper pie for me and a duckweed pie for Serenity."

"Al-alright," Ida stutters. She clears her throat and looks as if she wants to say something else, but thinks better of it and leaves.

"Thank you," Serenity says, her voice barely above a whisper.

I give her a wide smile, pleased that I could make the soft-spoken girl happy. When the pies are delivered, not by Ida, but by a delivery boy, Serenity beams, and I know I made the right choice.

* * *

 **I hope you enjoyed this, it was rather fun to write.**

 **But hey, if you want to give me feedback, the best way to do it is in a review (so leave tons of those, yeah?)**

 **~Al (littlebluespacemoth)**


	5. Mottos, Merlin, and Flan, Oh My

**So for this round each team got to pick a box, and the Wasps chose the Hogwarts box. Inside the box were prompts that had to be used in our fic, and I chose the quote prompt.**

 **Prompts:**  
 **-(quote) 'Let's face it; this is not the worst thing you've caught me doing.' - Tony Stark, Iron Man**  
 **-(colour) dusty pink**  
 **-(song) 'Toxic' by Britney Spears**

 **Quote: _"Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus"_ Translation: "Never tickle a sleeping dragon"**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing**

* * *

 **Mottos, Merlin, and Flan, Oh My**

The sun was setting, and the sky filled with colors ranging from dusty pink to blood orange. It was the most stunning, most bewitching sunset; there would never be one like it again. Yet, the four who might've enjoyed it the most were locked in their castle, arguing over something that would seem trivial to anyone else.

The four founders of Hogwarts were sitting in what would come to be known as the Great Hall. They were discussing the Hogwarts motto, or rather, they were discussing what the Hogwarts motto should be.

"We can't use 'Veni, vidi, vici'!" Salazar bellowed, his voice filling the hall.

"Why not?" Godric asked.

"Because Caesar was an ass!"

"So?"

"Boys!" exclaimed Helga. "We won't quote Caesar. Frankly, I think we should use something original."

"I agree," came Rowena's firm, but gentle voice. "No one's going to take the motto seriously if we use someone else's words."

Before any of the others could say anything, there was a popping sound, and a man in a yellow fuzzy robe appeared. His dark, unruly hair was hidden underneath a blue plastic shower cap, and he was holding a yellow rubber duck. He looked quite startled to be there.

"Merlin!" exclaimed Helga, jumping up from her chair.

"H-hello," Merlin stammered, taking off the shower cap and transfiguring the bathrobe into casual robes. "Um, sorry for intruding, but if you haven't guessed," he said, holding up the rubber duck, "I didn't quite mean to show up like this. But let's face it; this is not the worst thing you've caught me doing." His cheeks turned dark red as he looked down.

"It's quite alright, Merlin," Rowena said, pretending not to remember the time he had accidently popped back in time dressed patchwork bell-bottoms and dancing absurdly while singing along to what is known as ABBA's _Dancing Queen_. "Please, sit down. How are you doing?"

Merlin sat, and accepted the flan that was offered to him. "I'm alright," he said. "Well, Arthur, I mean, he's being a bit of a prat, so I took a small trip to Bermuda circa... 2012, I think, and then I ended up here as I was preparing for a bubble bath. Enough about me, though. What are the four of you up to?"

"We're trying to decide what the Hogwarts motto should be," said Godric.

"You mean you haven't decided?" Merlin spluttered, sitting forward in his chair.

"No," Salazar said bitterly. "Godric wanted to do 'Veni, vidi, vici' but I told him our motto is not going to be something bloody Caesar said."

"Why not?" Merlin asked, "He's quite popular in the future, even the Muggles know of him."

"This is why we can't use Caesar," Salazar explained to Godric, gesturing wildly. "Even the _Muggles_ know about him."

"We already agreed that we would come up with something original," Rowena intervened.

"Why don't we _not_ think about the motto tonight," Helga suggested. "We could do something fun instead! What was that muggle singing thing you've told us about, Merlin? It was... karaoke? Oh, and you could teach us that one song you're always humming! What's it called again?"

Merlin blushed. " _Toxic_ by Britney Spears," he muttered. "But, um… maybe not tonight."

"Next time, then," Helga said.

There was an awkward pause before Godric spoke up.

"I know," he said. "Merlin, tell us about that time with the dragon."

The four founders listened with rapture as Merlin told his story.

"And then the dragon wanted me to bake him a pie because he claimed that since his kitchen maid was out and I had disturbed his nap, I owed him. So I had to go foraging in the forest because he didn't have _anything_ to make the pie filling with. Eventually, I found blackberries and some blueberries, so I went back to the cave, only to find out that the dragon _didn't even like pie_ , he just wanted company because his last princess ran away with some knight and got married. Oh, and he wanted someone to clean his kitchen and restock his pantry. In fact, if I hadn't escaped when I did, he would've made me polish his gems, dust his caves, and mop the ceiling!" Merlin sighed and ran his hand through his curly locks. "This is why you should never bother a sleeping dragon. Or any sleeping creature, for that matter."

"That's it!" Godric said, jumping from his seat.

"What?" Rowena asked. Helga looked at him with concern, Salazar was too absorbed in eating his flan, and Merlin was listening politely, though his attention was turning back to the jiggly dessert, still untouched on his plate.

"Never bother a sleeping dragon!" Godric exclaimed gleefully.

"What?" asked Helga.

"For the motto!" Godric explained, looking quite satisfied with himself.

There was a moment of silence as the four founders and their guest pondered over the idea.

"I would say we translate it to Latin," Salazar suggested. "Then, it would sound better."

"Right," Merlin said through a mouthful of flan. "I believe that would be 'Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus'."

"Actually," Rowena spoke up, "that means, 'never tickle a sleeping dragon', but personally, I think that sounds better."

"She's right," Helga mused, "it does sound better. Same concept, slightly different wording. 'Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus'. It's good."

"Do we all agree?" Godric asked.

"Yes," said Salazar, crossing his legs.

"Yup," said Helga, smiling.

"Of course," said Rowena, nodding her head.

"Yum," said Merlin as he is provided with another plate of flan.

"Good," said Godric.

There was a lag in the conversation before Merlin was asked to tell another story. Later in the night, when the five were slightly tipsy, the four founders convinced Merlin to teach them Britney Spears's _Toxic_. While at first, they were flabbergasted by the words and the dance that Merlin did along with the song, they eventually came to love it, just as they had grown to love everything that the almighty Merlin taught them.

* * *

 **Hey, if you liked this fic you should leave a review telling me what you liked and why. If you didn't like the fic, do the same thing.**

 **~Al**


	6. Eight Dead Owls

**Prompts:  
** **-Write about a light character committing the sin of GREED or a dark character demonstrating the virtue of CHARITY  
** **-(dialogue) "Have I told you that I hate you recently?"  
** **-(word) lightning  
** **-(setting) the owlery**

 **So I did a dark character (Quirrell) demonstrating an act of charity.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything**

* * *

 **Eight Dead Owls**

It was a dark and stormy night. Cliche beginning, I know, but bear with me. Anyway, where was I?

Oh, right.

It was a dark and stormy night. The clock had just chimed, or, it would've if Hogwarts had clocks.

Professor Quirrell was in the Owlery, scratching at his turban with his wand. There were several dead owls lying on the floor around him.

He removed his turban, trusting that no student would be out of bed after curfew. To make sure that he wouldn't be caught, he cast several locking spells on the door along with a silencing spell.

"I don't think that killing all of these owls was necessary," he muttered.

"Quirrell, please," said the Dark Lord. Though the DADA professor could not see him, he imagined that the Dark Lord was rolling his eyes. "No one's going to care about a couple of owls."

"There are-" Quirrell took a moment to count the dead owls, "Eight! Eight dead owls. All of them belong to students."

"So?"

"So, they're going to notice when their pet owl is dead!" Quirrell exclaimed, desperately wishing that he had hair so he could run his fingers through it.

"Well, then do something about it," the Dark Lord huffed.

Quirrell bit the inside of his cheek. "Have I told you that I hate you recently?"

The Dark Lord considered this. "No, you haven't."

"I hate you."

"Why- why, you petulant little troll rat!" the Dark Lord spluttered. "I ought to-"

And then Quirrell remembered who he was talking to. His face flushed, and he knew that if he didn't act quick, something terrible would happen. Shit.

"Forgive me," he said. "Forgive me, Almighty Dark One. I was out of line, I'm sorry. I just-" he sighed, massaging his temples.

"Just what?" the Dark Lord prompted.

"I just wish I could-"

"Could what?"

"I wish that-"

"You wish that what, Quirrell. Tell me," the Dark Lord demanded.

"I would if you let me finish my sentences," Quirrell huffed. The Dark Lord said nothing, and Quirrell knew that an apology would've been too much to expect.

"Thank you," the professor said. "I just wish that I could do something about these owls. What was the point of killing them in the first place?"

"I thought it would be a good way to spend a Friday night."

"So, there was no purpose to killing these owls?" Quirrell exclaimed, furious. He thought he was going to explode out of pure frustration.

"Well, you didn't like it when we went clubbing, or roller skating. Plus, your Avada Kedavra needed work."

"I guess it doesn't, now that you've had me kill eight owls! Why couldn't we have just gone out to the Forbidden Forest and killed rodents or something?"

"We were almost caught last time we were in the Forbidden Forest. We're not risking it until we need more unicorn blood," the Dark Lord explained, sounding rather exasperated.

"Right," Quirrell sighed. "Right," he repeated for the sake of having something to say while his mind was absolutely blank. "What the fuck am I going to do?" He stared out of the window and saw rain. There was rain, pouring down from the dark clouds that blocked any hope of seeing the moon, stars, and night sky. Every few minutes, there would be a flash of lightning, followed by the deep sound of rolling thunder.

"Lightning," Quirrell mused. He was struck with an idea.

He flopped his turban back on his head, covering up the Dark Lord, gathered up the eight deceased owls in his arms and rushed to the Astronomy Tower, taking care not to be seen by Filch or his pesky cat.

The spell he was about to perform was… taxing, to say the least.

Pulling his wand from the folds of his robe, he let out a long sigh and began muttering the Latin incantations. The first spell that he casted directed the lightning to the pile of dead owls that he had placed by the ledge.

After the owls had been shocked, Quirrell began the second spell. The words he was muttering made no sense in any language, as the spell was as old as the Earth.

With each owl that Quirrell brought back to life, he got to decide how many months the owl got to live. To make things less suspicious, he gave each owl a different amount of time to live, but nothing over twenty four months.

When he was done casting, he began to feel the toll that the spells took on his body.

In total, he had given one hundred and thirty-two months of life to the eight owls. In return, he had taken those one hundred and thirty-two months from his own life. Eleven years of his life that he would never live, all given to eight pesky owls, just to remain inconspicuous.

There was an ache in his back that had never been there before, and each step took a little more effort. He looked down and saw a bit more pudge in his stomach, and felt a few wrinkles on his forehead that could easily been be hidden under a few glamours.

He removed his turban, for once grateful that he didn't have any hair, because he knew that if he did, a number of them would be graying.

"I fixed the problem," he informed the Dark Lord.

"Good," the Dark Lord said, cackling. "Quirrell, that was such a... charitable act; it makes more confident that I chose the right person as my host."

Quirrell blushes. "You're just saying that, my lord."

"Quirrell, for once in my life, I am giving a compliment, without sarcasm, mind you, so the least you can do is accept it as true."

"If you insist, my lord," said Quirrell, trying to sound nonchalant. In truth, he felt like tap dancing to an upbeat song and singing until he exploded from joy.

In the end, it didn't matter that Quirrell gave up eleven years of what his lifespan was supposed to be. Due to the Dark Lord's interference, Quirrell's growing desire to please his master, and Harry freakin' Potter, the DADA professor found his life to be over just before the school year had ended. His last thoughts were as follows:

 _I could've given those damn owls a longer lifespan._

* * *

 **A gigantic thank you to my teammates who always beta my fics.**

 **Leave a review, please!**

 **~Al**


	7. Hope

**We're doing ships! My ship is the S.S Icicle (aka Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Malfoy), which is a fine ship, but I do have to say, this ship is called S.S Icicle for a reason, so this fic isn't filled with my terrible jokes and questionable plot points. In fact, this is the most serious fic I've ever written (not that I don't take my writing seriously, this fic is just more solemn than my usual).**

 **Prompts:  
** **-(Quote) "Just have a little faith" Michael Scofield, Prison Break  
** **-(word) Brush  
** **-(word) tremble  
** **-S.S Icicle (Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Malfoy)**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own a thing**

* * *

 **Hope**

"I'm pregnant," Narcissa said, the words tumbling from her mouth.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror. Sighing, she picked up her brush and ran it through her long blonde hair a few times. She tried to ignore the way her hands were trembling.

The chances of her telling Lucius about her... situation before she'd be showing were slim. Her husband was constantly away on missions for the Dark Lord, and when he was home, he was brooding away in the library. She had no idea when he would be home next, how long he would be home for, or if he would come home at all. From what she had overheard, Lucius was gallivanting across Europe, persuading some dark creatures to fight for the Dark Lord, while, of course, wreaking havoc on every muggle village he'd come across.

It hadn't escaped her mind that she would be going through this pregnancy alone.

Fuck.

 _She had to stay strong_ , she reminded herself. She had to stay strong for herself, for her child, for her husband.

"Just have a little faith, Cissy," she whispered to herself. Faith in what, though? Faith that her husband wouldn't get swept up in the Dark Lord's madness? Faith that when the Dark Lord got his way, the world would be a better place? Faith that she would be able to provide her child with a normal childhood?

Perhaps keeping faith wasn't the right idea, considering Narcissa was more dedicated to Lucius than he was to her. After all, the only thing keeping their marriage together was Lucius's need for an heir and Narcissa's ability to provide one.

Narcissa sighed. "If I can't have faith in my husband, then I suppose I'll have to hold onto the hope that his desire to produce and raise the Malfoy heir is stronger than his desire to serve the Dark Lord," she muttered to herself.

A few months passed and Narcissa's slim chance of telling Lucius of her pregnancy before she was showing disappeared.

Fuck.

Her only consolation was Dobby, who was one of the few house elves left at Malfoy Manor, since most had been given to the Dark Lord as gifts upon his arrival.

Those elves had died within their first week of service.

Dobby was a sweet house elf. He was there when she first experienced morning sickness; he helped her when her nose began to bleed and her back began to hurt. He put up with every mood swing, and he was there when the baby started kicking. In fact, all of the house elves were there when the baby started kicking, as she had been down in the kitchen, going over the meal plan for the upcoming week.

The only one who wasn't there during all these moments was the baby's father.

She hadn't heard from him since he had left— roughly a week before she discovered her pregnancy.

The next time she saw her husband was the day her child was born.

After fourteen long hours of labor, much fretting and excitement from the house elves, and a lovely chat with the midwife, Narcissa's husband arrived home.

Of course, she wasn't at the door to greet him. She was in her room, sitting on the couch, cradling her child as if he was the most precious thing in the world. The baby was sleeping, and Narcissa could not stop staring at him, hardly believing that this tiny being had been living inside her not a day ago.

"There you are," Lucius said haughtily as he burst through the door. "Why didn't you greet me?" He saw the bundle in her arms. "What is _that_?"

Narcissa huffed. " _This,_ " she said in a quiet voice, "is my son. Draco Lucius Malfoy. He's sleeping right now, so keep your voice down."

Lucius thought for a minute. "He's your son?"

Narcissa nodded.

"Who's the father?"

"You are."

"Oh."

"If you had come back sometime in the last nine months, you might've found out that your wife was pregnant."

Lucius stared at her dumbly. Before he could say anything, baby Draco had awoken and started bawling.

"Dobby!" Narcissa called, and the house elf appeared by her side.

"Dobby," she said, smiling down at the elf, "would you mind taking care of my son while I deal with my husband?"

Dobby nodded, very eager to please his mistress, who had treated him much more kindly than his master ever had.

"Thank you," she said, and Dobby walked through the doorway to the adjoining room that was now Draco's nursery.

Lucius looked put out.

"Narcissa," he began, but Narcissa cut him off.

"Look," she said. "As your wife, I support you and I'm proud of you and your work. I have kept the manor running while you were gone, and provided you with an heir. I am doing my wifely duties. You've not done a good job as a husband, and in the past, I haven't minded. But now, your role has changed. You're not only a husband; you're also a father, and I expect you to be here while Draco's growing up. I don't know where this whole Voldemort thing is going, and please, understand that I'm not trying to keep you from your job. I just… I just need to know that you'll be able to provide for me and Draco. That when this war is over, we'll be able to give my son a proper childhood."

"Why do you keep referring to him as your son. Shouldn't he be our son?" Lucius asked.

"He should be our son, but seeing as you haven't been here for me or him for the past nine months, he's currently _my_ son. I don't care if it was your sperm that allowed him to come into this world; until you step up and prove yourself to be worthy of parenthood, he will remain _my_ son."

Lucius gazed at her, the look on his face incomprehensible. Narcissa felt her heart skip a beat. She had no idea how he was going to react, but hopefully, she could rely on his urge to continue the Malfoy name. Hopefully, he would realize that she was willing to run away with her son and raise him as a Black.

Lucius nodded, and Narcissa felt her face relax into a smile.

Hope, she had learned, was something worth holding onto.

* * *

 **A gigantic thank you to my lovely team mates who beta all of my fics.**

 **Also, please leave a review.**

 **~Al (littlebluespacemoth)**


	8. Pansy in Wonderland

**Ah yes, look at my original title. You know, you'd think that I'd have this in the bag because I've got _Alice in Wonderland_ , but Idk wtf I'm doing here. Also, I'm very tired because of this thing called band camp (shout out to all you marchers).**

 **Prompts:**  
 **-Clumsy**  
 **-Gamble**  
 **-"If you smile when no one else is around, you really mean it." -Andy Rooney**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own a thing**

* * *

 **Pansy in Wonderland**

Pansy was wandering around on the green meadow next to the Great Lake at Hogwarts. She wasn't really paying attention to where she was going, so she was quite surprised when her foot got caught in a rabbit hole and she fell.

"Clumsy me," she muttered. Her head hurt, and she couldn't focus because little black ants were crawling all over her and covering her eyes. All she could see was black.

When colors became something for her to see again, she realized she wasn't on the meadow at Hogwarts anymore.

Shit.

How the hell was she going to get back?

She stood up, a little wobbly on her feet, and took in her surroundings. To her left, there were flowers tittering and gossiping. To her right, a group of birds appeared to be… gambling? Birds didn't gamble. Flowers didn't giggle over nonsense gossip. She scowled and pinched herself.

Nothing.

Well, she wasn't dreaming.

"Pansy Parkinson?" came a voice. Pansy whirled around.

"Loony... um, Luna Lovegood?"

"Hello, Pansy," Lovegood said, her eyes glazing over slightly. "How'd you get here?"

"I hit my head… Um, where exactly is here?"

"Well, it's not there," Lovegood said, pointing to the area next to her. She smiled and started singing.

 _I'm always here,_

 _I'm never there,_

 _I'm never, ever anywhere,_

 _Excepting here, 'cause here is where I'm in._

 _But when I go from here to there,_

 _My here comes with me everywhere,_

 _'Till there is here, and here is where I've been._

Pansy stared, entranced by the lovely girl's voice. She shook her head, snapping out of it.

"Pretty song, Lovegood, but that doesn't exactly answer the question," Pansy snapped.

"What question?"

Pansy huffed, and repeated her question. "And don't start singing again," she warned.

"Oh, we're in Wonderland," Luna answered as if it was no big deal.

"Wonderland?"

"Oh, yes, I'm a descendant of Alice."

"Alice?"

"Oh, yes," Luna said before she began to sing.

 _Alice in Wonderland,_

 _How do you get to Wonderland?_

 _Over the hill or under land,_

 _Or just behind the tree?_

"That's nice and all," Pansy interrupted, "but how do we get back to Hogwarts?"

"Oh, we just have to wait for Cheshire to come around. He always has the answers. He's always smiling too, even when no one is around. You know, if you smile when no one else is around, you really mean it. Which is good for him because he'll live longer. You should smile more often."

Pansy blinked, not really sure what to say. Luckily, she didn't have to think of anything because a white rabbit hopped right between the two girls, nearly knocking Pansy over.

 _I'm late, I'm late,_

 _For a very important date,_

 _No time to say hello, goodbye!_

 _I'm late, I'm late, I'm late!_

As he sang this, he hopped around the girls in circles.

"Oh, I haven't met you before," Luna said cheerily. "How far along are you?"

The white rabbit stumbled over his feet as he came to a stop. "What?"

"When is the baby due?"

"What baby?"

"The one that you're having."

The rabbit puffed out his chest. "I'll have you know," he said, standing up tall and puffing out his chest, "that I am a _male_ rabbit."

"So?" Pansy asked. "Men can have babies."

The white rabbit rolled his eyes. "Oh, how liberal of you." He huffed and thumped his foot. "But I'm not pregnant."

"Well, then what _are_ you?" Luna asked.

"I'm late!" the rabbit said, holding up his watch. He dashed off, leaving the two girls alone.

"Come along, then," Luna said. She beamed, and, taking Pansy's hand, she pulled her towards a path that seemed to have appeared from nowhere.

"Are we going to see Cheshire?" Pansy asked.

"Oh, no, we're going to talk to him after tea."

"Tea?" Pansy asked, her brows furrowed together like a little caterpillar. "What about going back to Hogwarts?"

"Oh, yes, but I promised Hatter, Hare, and Dormouse that I'd stop by for tea the next time I was here, and, well, here I am again. I don't break promises." Luna's light-hearted tone had turned serious, and Pansy was taken aback.

In no time, they reached a clearing in the forest, where a large table was set up. On the table were dozens of teapots, teacups, and tea cakes. A brown rabbit—a hare—was avidly listening to a teapot while a man in a tall, green hat buttered a tea saucer. As soon as the two girls stepped into the clearing, the man and the hare looked up.

"Luna!" they cried, and a tiny mouse head peeped out of the tea pot.

"Luna!" cried the tiny voice of the tiny mouse.

"Hello, Hatter, Hare, Dormouse! I brought a friend. This is Pansy."

Pansy gave a tentative wave, but she couldn't stop thinking about how Lovegood had called her a friend. Were they friends?

Luna guided Pansy to a seat and sat in the one next to her.

"How's Wonderland been doing since I've last been here?"

"Oh, well, the queen, she actually _likes_ white roses now, so she's having all of her card guards replanting her rose bushes. Of course, they're painting the roses white, but you didn't hear it from me," the Hatter said.

"My lips are sealed," Luna said, pouring herself a cup of tea before she offered the teapot to Pansy.

"Thanks," Pansy said quietly. She poured herself a cup of tea, took a sip, and turned her attention to the conversation the Hare was having with the Dormouse.

"It's not like I can do anything about it," the Dormouse said. "You shouldn't keep me from having tea because it's not my unbirthday."

"Yes, we should. This tea is for those celebrating their unbirthday, and since today is your birthday, you can't have any." The Hare turned his attention to Pansy. "It is your unbirthday, right?"

"Yes," Pansy replied, not exactly sure of what an unbirthday was, but she thought she had a pretty good idea.

The conversation carried on for a bit, and Pansy found that she was enjoying herself. Tea time was over the moment she finished her tea. Luna grabbed her hand again, which caused Pansy to blush, and pulled her away from the table.

"Now, where are we going?" Pansy asked when they were on another path in the woods.

"Oh, we're just going to wander around, enjoy the scenery. Stay away from any flowers, though."

"Why?"

"They're quite rude," Luna explained.

"No, I mean, why are we just wandering around?"

"Oh, well, Cheshire just appears, you can't really go looking for him."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, when he wants to find you, he'll find you."

"So, we're trapped here until Cheshire just decides to appear?"

"Oh, yes."

They walked for a little while in silence before Pansy asked: "How many times have you been here?"

"Oh, dozens of times."

"Then why don't you know how to get home? I mean, you've visited so often, shouldn't you know the way by now?"

"Oh, no, see, it changes every time."

"That's annoying," Pansy muttered. She wasn't sure if Luna heard her, because a musical laugh sounded from the tree next to them.

"Cheshire!" Luna exclaimed.

"Hello, Luna," said a smiling set of teeth.

"I see what you mean about the smiling thing," Pansy muttered.

"I see you've brought a friend this time," Cheshire said, and Pansy scratched the back of her head.

"Oh, yes," said Luna, "and we're rather eager to get home."

"Well," said the smiling teeth. A set of eyes appeared above the teeth. "It's very simple." A head. A cat's head. Huh. "You see," the cat said as the rest of it's body appeared, "You've just got to tell each other a secret."

"Sounds simple," Pansy said.

"One," the cat continued, "that no one else knows."

Pansy frowned, and turned to look at Luna. The blonde girl was just smiling.

"Well," Cheshire said, "I"ll just leave you alone."

He disappeared, all but his smile, and the smile floated away.

"Well," said Pansy, turning to face Luna. "You can go first."

"Hmmm," the girl hummed. She appeared to be thinking hard. Pansy liked how she could tell when Luna had thought of her secret to share. Her entire face lit up and she smiled, much like Cheshire Cat had. "I've always wanted to dye my hair purple," she said. Her feet were no longer touching the ground and Pansy found she was able to look in her eyes.

"Shit," Pansy said under her breath, because those were a pair of eyes that had been haunting her dreams. She gathered her courage. "I've always wondered…" she took a breath, "I've always wondered what it would be like to kiss you."

A gust of wind blew the two girls upwards, and Pansy closed her eyes. When she felt her feet on solid ground again, she was surprised to also feel a pair of soft lips on hers. Her eyes flew open, but quickly fell shut again because she realized that Luna was kissing her.

Kissing Luna quickly became her new favorite activity, and Wonderland soon became her new favorite place.

* * *

 **Thanks to my teammates as always. Also, the two songs, the first one I stole from _Fraggle Rock_ (but one of my teammates (hi Frida) says that she knows it as well in Swedish, so I don't know if Jim Henson stole it from somewhere or what and I'm too lazy to look it up). The second song is actually from _Alice in Wonderland._ As well as the third song (I totally forgot that was there until I looked it over and the backspace is too far away)**

 **You guys should leave me a review (please)**

 **~Al (littlebluespacemoth)**


	9. Portrait Life

**Hahaha so like Round Nine I was like crap I have no time (thanks marching band), well this time I had less than no time (thanks marching band and those summer assignments I 'forgot' to do) and really the only reason this came together at all is because my of teammates (especially Frida, Sophie, and Ellen) and I owe them thanks for every fic I've posted for this season, but I they get the biggest thank you this round because I've just been falling down a hole since the beginning of the month and since the month is close to ending, I'm almost at rock bottom.**

 **But enough about me.** __ **F** **or Round Ten we got to write about portraits and ghosts and I got to write about Dilys Derwent, who is a portrait, and she worked as Headmistress at Hogwarts and a nurse at St. Mungo's (that's right, I did research), but I mean, this is kind of a crack fic (I mean they all are, like, plots need to be interesting and I have a tendency to go overboard).**

 **Prompts:**  
 **-Dilys Derwent (portrait)**  
 **-Confined**  
 **-"Please tell me you're being ironic"**  
 **-Tree**

 **Disclaimer: I don't know if I've mentioned this before, but I don't own a thing**

* * *

 **Portrait Life**

Dilys Derwent had lived in her portrait for two hundred seventeen years, five months, seventeen days, four hours, thirty-seven minutes, and fifty-six seconds.

Okay, maybe the last part was just her estimation.

She had seen many headmasters and headmistresses during her two hundred seventeen years. Out of them, Dumbledore was the only one with a good head on his shoulders.

Of course, he was still completely off his rocker. Every headmaster and headmistress of Hogwarts was as mad as a hatter, but on a scale of one to ten—one being the least mad, and ten being the most—they were all around a seven, eight or nine, while he was a five, or maybe six.

Perhaps it was because he didn't stay confined all day in his office, like many of the others had. No, Dumbledore actually roamed the corridors, mingled with the students, and befriended all of the professors _and_ the ghosts, while making time to have short conversations with each portrait.

Of course, he never went outside, so he was as pale as the moon.

 _If he had a houseplant or two in his office_ , Dilys mused. _A small tree, maybe. Then, everything would be perfect for him._

Dilys loved plants. She was disappointed that her painter had not added a small potted plant to either of her portraits.

When she wasn't in her portrait at St. Mungo's, or giving advice to Dumbledore on how to properly punish the four Gryffindor troublemakers, Dilys found herself wandering into other Hogwarts paintings. She liked the one on the fourth floor the best. It was a large painting of the Forbidden Forest, and she liked being able to wander around the tall trees.

The other painting that she liked was the one of Sir Cadogan. Her visits to him were always… interesting.

For example, the other day, Dilys went to visit him, and he greeted her with the loud proclamation, "I love modern music."

Dilys snorted. "Please, tell me you're being ironic."

"Of course not," Sir Cadogan said, crossing his arms across his chest defensively.

"Name one song that's good."

Sir Cadogan thought for a moment. "Well, I don't know what it's called, but it goes like this."

He began to sing.

 _You're breaking my heart_

' _Cause you're leaving_

 _You've fallen for somebody new_

 _It isn't too easy believing_

 _You'd leave after all we've been through_

"I know that song," Dilys interrupted. She frowned. "But that song is old."

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is," Dilys argued, crossing her arms, mirroring Sir Cadogan's position. "The song you're singing is called _You're Breaking My Heart_ , originally an Italian song called _Mattinata_ , was recorded by Vic Damone in the 1940s. It's 1985."

"So?" That was another thing she liked about Sir Cadogan. He didn't ask how she knew stuff—he just accepted and reacted.

"So, it's not modern music!"

Yes, Sir Cadogan was an interesting one.

She sighed and tied back her hair. Again, her painter had messed up and given her her old hair cut, so it was quite long. Dilys had tried cutting it with Sir Cadogan's sword, but it had popped back to how it had been painted.

Portrait life was weird.

There wasn't a point to her existence. Sure, she helped Dumbledore from time to time, and she gave advice at St. Mungo's when they were in a pickle, but other than that, she was just there to be remembered.

She didn't know why she deserved to be remembered in such a way—it wasn't as if she had done anything important when she was alive. Even if she had, she wasn't sure if this was the best way to honor someone's memory.

She was bored.

Everyone was bored.

The Fat Lady, bless her, was so bored she had tricked herself into thinking she wasn't bored. She spent her days breaking wine glasses with her voice, only to have the wine glass pop back into the painting as though nothing had happened.

There was no progress in the portrait world.

You just sat and watched as everyone else continued, as they made progress.

Until one day, she realized her nails were getting longer.

Just her fingernails. Not her toenails, nor her hair, although she didn't understand why. After all, hair and nails were made of the same thing, and if her fingernails were growing, her toenails certainly should have been growing as well. She shrugged, and didn't bother to think about it.

Fast forward three weeks, and her nails had gotten so long that her fingers were almost rendered useless. She had broken her nails several times over the past weeks, but the nail had just popped back to its former length.

She went to visit Sir Cadogan and was surprised to see that his nails were as short as they had always been.

"Well, of course," he answered. "I keep them neatly manicured at all times."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Well, obviously, my nails haven't been growing since I became a portrait, but back when I was alive, oh man, I had the best manicured nails in the kingdom. I made sure that before I died, the painter knew to paint a file so that I could shape my nails. Of course, I had no idea at the time that as a portrait, my nails wouldn't grow, but now, my thinking ahead has finally paid off. Look!" He waved his hands around in front of her face.

"Uh huh, very nice," she said, her mind moving at the speed of light. "Say, may I use your nail file?"

"Sure, okay," he said, smiling as if it was easy, but the tightness in his voice revealed that he was really not okay with handing over his precious nail file.

Dilys pretended she didn't know any better.

"Thanks," she said with a sweet smile as she plopped down on the grass and began filing her nails.

"So," she said as she shaped her right index finger, "I wonder how this happened."

"Well, uh," he shifted nervously, "I certainly don't know. Nope. Not me."

She hadn't been suspicious, but she was now.

"Really?" She arched an eyebrow and moved on to her middle finger. "Something tells me that you're lying."

Luckily, Sir Cadogan's brain was wired to be as knightly as possible, so lying wasn't something he did well or enjoyed doing at all.

"Fine," he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. "I got one of those pesky kids to perform a spell. Don't ask me what spell, but he obviously messed up because only my nails were supposed to grow and now, even the dogs in the painting on the second floor need their nails trimmed."

"Well," said Dilys after pondering for a minute, "I think what you should do is get that 'pesky kid' to undo the spell, and if no one's nails go back to being normal, you'll go around to _every_ portrait, let them use your nail file, and apologise."

"Hmmm. What do I get out of it?"

"Adventure?" Dilys offered. "I mean, you don't leave your painting very often. This would be a wonderful way to become acquainted with every Hogwarts portrait."

Sir Cadogan stroked his beard. "I suppose that's true. Alright. I'll begin as soon as you're done with your nails."

Dilys smiled. She finished her right hand, and moved on to filing the nails on her left hand. As she did so, she and Sir Cadogan discussed shoes, of all things, and she thought to herself, perhaps portrait life wasn't so bad.

* * *

 **So yeah that went places. I think it's because I watched too much Simply Nailogical on youtube and now I spend a lot of time on my nails.**

 **Hey, if you leave a review, I'll send you an imaginary pie (your options are blueberry, apple, or pear with cheese baked in the crust). But no cake, I'm terrible with cakes.**

 **Oh yeah, and the song is a very nice song, you should totally listen to it (I first heard it when I learned to play it on my french horn and it's become one of my favorites) (also, you should listen to Paul Simon's You Can Call Me Al) (just saying)**

 **Hugs and butterfly kisses**

 **~Al (littlebluespacemoth)**


	10. Another Portrait Story

**Weird fic, I'm tired, we've gone over this, here's something new:** **HEY JUDGE YOU MIGHT WANT TO LOOK AT THIS because I don't want to lose points because one of my characters outlives the human life expectancy by a lot. Guess what, this guy is a** ** _wizard_** **and because this character is a wizard, and the average life expectancy for him is 137.5 years and apparently a wizard has lived to be 755 years old (according to one of the harry potter wikipedia pages) so yeah, I can get away with this. And I'm only saying this because I've had judges take away for some really weird stuff.**

 **Prompts:  
** **Potion (Amortentia for me)  
** **A Hogwarts Portrait: Paint a grey castle  
** **No using the letter 'w'  
** **'Green is not a creative color' -DHMIS  
** **'Dream a little harder' - Team Starkid, Twisted**

 **Disclaimer: Now, I don't own nothing, but I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Another Portrait Story**

Amortentia.

The bane of my existence.

It's unusual because I invented the fucking potion.

Laverne de Montmorency, it is a pleasure to meet you.

No, I did not used to be this bitter.

Being trapped in a portrait that never got sold made me bitter. I sit, encased in this golden frame, hanged in a paint shop and the idiot that painted me—a frail, old man—continues to paint other portraits. Most of them don't get sold either.

Today, the knave is putting all of his focus on painting a portrait that had actually been preordered—a very rare occurrence. It is a grey castle—the School of Magic, the one that got destroyed during that stupid Pureblood crusade. Oh, bother, I can't remember the name. I'm sure the school I'm talking about is familiar for you—it's the one in Scotland, the one that Harry Potter attended.

See, the castle has been obliterated, so some posh person on the school board commissioned him to paint a portrait of the school as it looked before its annihilation.

If you're ever offered the chance to observe someone as they paint something, refuse. Don't even consider it. Painters are dull; half the time, they stand there, gazing at a blank or half-painted canvas, getting paint on everything except their canvas—especially in their hair. At least this knave plays music as he's painting, so there's some form of entertainment there.

I'm actually quite happy about this music contraption the painter has. As far as I can tell, he's able to listen to any song that's ever been composed—it's as though his radio has access to every song in the history of music.

For example, 'Dream a Little Harder' is currently playing—the song's from a muggle theater company, yet this old Pureblood coot loves it. Personally, I think it's because the lyrics mostly consist of the phrase 'fuck you!'

I'd give anything to actually see a musical production, especially the one that this particular song is from. Alas, I'm stuck in my portrait.

A yapping sound startles me from my train of thought; glancing at the ground underneath me, I can see my fluffy black dog, Fru-Fru, begging for my attention. Naturally, I give it to him—he's the only thing keeping me sane in this dull portrait; the painting's half-assed furniture, dreary color scheme, and paint smell is unbearable in his absence.

Of course, Fru-Fru came into the scene a couple years after I had been painted. I guess that's one benefit of being stuck in the same room as the person that painted you—he can add in stuff later. After years of begging, he finally agreed to add my dog to my portrait, and in return, I stopped nagging him about painting Fru-Fru into my portrait.

Eventually, after a long belly rub, Fru-Fru gets distracted by a squirrel running up a tree in a portrait across the room. He leaps from my arms and runs through every portrait, startling the others, also bored out of their minds, so he can chase the squirrel. This brings a rare smile to my face. The painter truly did capture his personality, even though he never met Fru-Fru alive.

I turn my attention back to the ignoramus. He's muttering to himself, trying to choose one of three colors.

"Should I use blue, purple, or green?" he mumbles, running his paint-covered hands through his hair. "Not green. Green is not a creative color, and blue is quite boring. But I can't paint the lake mostly purple." He ponders for a moment before he picks up all three colors plus black, and begins to paint the lake.

Stupid school. The Beauxbatons Academy of Magic never gets painted—of course, a respectable Englishman never paints a French school. On the other hand, he did paint me, a French Potions Mistress.

'Dream a Little Harder' comes to its end, and a different song begins to play.

 _My sex change operation got botched…_

Ah, yes, 'Angry Inch'. Even though the portrait painter is fairly liberal, hearing a song about a botched sex change operation is a bit too much for his delicate old mind, so he changes the station, and 'Sexyback' by Justin Timberlake begins to play.

"Much better," he mutters.

I'll never understand the thoughts going through the bastard's mind.

Three hours later, and the portrait is done. It's unusual—my painter's paintings of landscapes or inanimate objects seem to be more popular than the portraits of people. I think it's because he is not good at the personality part of the enchantment. For the castle painting, all he has to do is cast a couple of charms so that every so often, a breeze rustles the grass and leaves. It isn't a hard thing to do. Nor is it hard to enchant a painting so that the scene changes as the seasons do, the sky either sunny and cloudy as the occasion calls for it. I'm almost impressed that he's also added the Giant Squid that lived in the lake, and done an enchantment so he makes an appearance sometimes, but only almost.

I think that the dingbat painter is not skilled enough to paint people. I think he painted the bitterness into my soul. I vaguely remember being quite proud of my potion skills during my life; the fact that I feel bitter makes little sense.

Or maybe it's because no one gives a shit about Amortentia. No one's had a good experience using the potion, so of course, no one is going to buy a painting of the lady that invented the fucking potion. Perhaps that's the reason I'm so bitter.

I'm not sure if I'd think and act differently if I'd been painted by another artist, but I do not think I'd resent my biggest accomplishment.

Fucking Amortentia.

Hang on.

Hold on just a minute.

Someone is here looking to… buy a portrait?

I don't think I understand.

Oh, no. Sorry, false alarm.

It's just some little, fat man picking up the just finished portrait.

The painter leads him into the back room, and I turn my attention back to Fru-Fru, calling him back to our portrait. The other portraits are making sure that they look fabulous, because hey, someone could get sold.

Of course, it's not going to be me.

The man looks at the portrait and smiles. He hands the proud painter a bag of galleons and takes a look around the room.

"Nice setup you've got here, Hank," the man remarks.

The painter (and no, I'll never refer to the old idiot as Hank) beams.

"Say," continues the man, as his gaze falls upon my portrait, "That's Laverne de Montmorency, inventor of Amortentia."

The painter nods, but the other man isn't paying attention.

"I think I'll buy her too," the man said, "for my office. Laverne de Montmorency, golly, you don't see many paintings of her. I'll give you nineteen galleons and seven knuts for her."

The painter agrees, and for once, I don't think he's an idiot. Shocking, really. I'm not focusing on that though. The idea that someone is actually buying me makes every other thought insignificant. Never have I ever imagined that I'd be sold to a man (especially for such a small amount) but hey, I can't be picky. I'm finally getting out of this hell hole.

For a moment, the bitterness fades, and I'm almost happy that I invented Amortentia.

* * *

 **So yeah. As always, a big shoutout to my team mates for dealing with my grammar issues and awkward sentences.**

 **Also, just to get it out of my system: wwwww ww how which what who where when white while snowing twisted hogwarts hedwig watch wow ww wwwww wwwwww it' so nice to be able to use that key again**

 **Hey, if you want to say something the way you do it is in a review! So please leave tons of those, because everytime a fanfic gets a review, an angel gets their shoe (haha, see I did something (every time a bell rings and angel gets its wings (or every time a dog farts an angel gets its heart)))**

 **~ Al (littlebluespacemoth)**


	11. Those Knights of Valour

**Wowie. First time I've used an extension. So this is what if feels like.**

 **Prompts:**  
 **-Mystic**  
 **-Valour**  
 **-Instinct**  
 **-FLUFFY story about THE BLACK FAMILY**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing**

* * *

 **Those Knights of Valour**

"Psst," Sirius hisses, peering into Regulus's room.

Regulus, who is only four, is technically meant to be taking his afternoon nap. Sirius, who is three years older, is technically meant to be in time-out for throwing a fit when his nanny had tried to cut his hair. Their nanny, a middle-aged woman with deep worry lines and an Australian accent, is technically meant to be coming up with Sirius's next lesson in spelling. Instead, she's painting her nails with 'Mystic Night'—a shimmery, navy blue nail polish she'd stolen from Walburga.

"Psst," Sirius hisses again, this time louder—he knows that Regulus isn't asleep yet.

"Siri?" he hears Regulus ask.

"Regi?" Sirius responds. "Come on, let's go monster hunting."

"But I don't want to. Monsters are scary," Regulus whines, drawing out the word 'scary.'

"That's why we have to hunt them," Sirius explains, grabbing Regulus's hand and drawing him out of his room, "so they won't hurt us or anyone else."

When Regulus appears reluctant, Sirius tugs extra hard at his hand and says, "Come _on_ , Regi, don't be such a scaredy cat!"

Regulus, who wants very much to be the opposite of a scaredy cat, pretends he is a knight of valour, like in his story book, off to go kill a beast and rescue the damsel in distress. Of course, he doesn't want to marry a distressed damsel;he is only four, after all, and besides, who would want to marry a _distressed_ damsel? They seem to be such a handful, constantly getting themselves captured by multiple monsters for brave dogs like Regulus to rescue.

 _Anyway_ , after all of these thoughts, which are very advanced for a four year old—but hey, Regulus _is_ a Black—run through little Regi's head, he and Sirius are on the edge of the tiny of forest that is behind Grimmauld Place.

Regulus is ignoring every instinct in his body that is telling him to go back and cling to Sirius's hand. He was trying not to stick his thumb in his mouth—a habit he is desperately trying to outgrow.

"Go in," Sirius whispers, trying to shove Regulus forward and shake him off at the same time, but Regulus refuses to budge. If he's going in, he's going to take Siri with him.

"Regi," Sirius sighs, "don't be scared. You know that knight in your story? The knight of valour?"

Regulus nods.

"Do ya know what valour means?"

Regulus shakes his head.

"It means great courage while facing danger. You want to be a knight of valour, right?"

Regulus nods.

"Then ya gotta have great courage in the face of danger, and monster hunting will be good practice for that."

"I can practice when I'm older," Regulus decides, keeping his feet planted firmly on the ground. Sirius sighs and rolls his eyes.

"I'll be right behind you," he promises, but Regulus is not convinced.

"How 'bout you be right in front of me?" he suggests.

Sirius doesn't seem to like this idea. He brushes the hair from his eyes, which is still long because the nanny couldn't get near him with a pair of scissors. He looks as if he's thinking.

Regulus doesn't like it when Sirius is thinking. Especially when he's thinking about monster hunting.

"I'll give you a cookie if you go in first," Siri eventually says, and Regulus rolls his eyes.

"No," he says, "I don't even like cookies. I like celery."

Sirius gasps, genuinely offended. "How?" he asks.

Regulus shrugs, but offers no explanation.

Sirius ponders the situation a bit more, but he can't think of any ways to get Regulus into the woods with him. Monsters have to be hunted, and who's going to hunt them if not them?

"Please, Regi," Sirius begs. "I won't make you go monster hunting for another month."

Regulus sighs and agrees.

Sirius grins, relieved. Who knew four year olds could be so stubborn?

 _What am I getting myself into_ , Regulus thinks as he toddles beside Sirius into the woods.

They don't get very far before they hear the unmistakeable voice of their nanny.

"Her nails must have dried," Sirius whispers, his frustration showing in his voice.

Regulus nods, but stays quiet. Their nanny is one of the most frightening monsters in the world, and that's when she isn't mad.

"Regulus!" she yells, her shrill voice sending shivers down both of the boys' spines. "Sirius!"

They're both holding their breath, but Regulus takes a tiny step back, and a twig snaps. He almost groans—what a cliche—but he stays quiet and hopes that the nanny didn't hear anything.

She did.

"What are you two boys doing in the woods?" she asks, trying to come across as light-hearted. The boys aren't fooled. "Get out of there! You'll run into poison ivy if you don't!"

Regulus leads a reluctant Sirius out of the woods, both of their heads hanging down in mock shame.

"What am I going to do with you two boys?" the nanny asks, trying to cover her anger with a laugh.

She's always trying to do something, but with her pinched face and fuchsia lipstick, she rarely succeeds.

She reaches down and picks up Regulus- who is much too old to be picked up- and grabs Sirius's arm, her freshly painted nails digging into his skin. She marches them inside, muttering obscene words under her breath, and locks them in their rooms.

Of course, Sirius somehow manages to find his way into Regulus's room, with a box of cookies and a celery stick, and they spend their time out telling stories about monsters and knights of valour.

* * *

 **Yeah hey reviews are cool, ya know?**

 **So, I'm gonna go back to sleep, and you'll see me next round (and I already know my prompts, but, uh, spoilers ;P)**

 **~Al (littlebluespacemoth)**


	12. Aristophanes, Euphonium, and Whatever

**Write about only female characters? Hells yes. I can write about all the girls. Anyway, I'm trapped in a pit of solitude and they won't even let me join the lonely men club but oh well I started my own and it's called the nobody likes me club.**

 **Prompts:**  
 **Glory Days: Choose a character and write about them in their second year at Hogwarts**  
 **Lamp**  
 **Stranger**  
 **Only write about (or mention) female characters**

 **I blame Hedwig and the Angry Inch for this piece as well as my love for band. Also, I gender swapped the gods because why not, no boys allowed.**

 **Disclaimer: I, a pitiful high school student, own nothing**

* * *

 **Aristophanes, Euphonium, and Whatever**

Once upon a time, long before the actual story took place, the people that roamed the earth had had two sets of arms, two sets of legs, and two faces looking out of one head. This all happened before the concept of love came to be.

The goddesses feared their power, so one day, one of them said, "I'm going to kill them all with my hammer, like I killed the giants."

A more powerful one said, "No, you better let me use my lightning like scissors." With that, she grabbed some bolts and split the children of the Sun and the Moon and the Earth right in half, so they were now walking around on two feet, with two arms, and one face peering from their head.

Another goddess sewed up each person's wounds and pulled them around their belly to remind them of the price they had paid. The goddess of the Nile gathered up a hurricane to scatter them around to the four corners of the Earth, separating them from their other halves.

When one would manage to find their other half, they would wrap their arms around them and try to become one being again.

* * *

"Why don't they offer _any_ music courses here?" Pansy muttered as she unpacked her euphonium. She blew her too long bangs from her eyes. "It would make practicing much easier. Or, at least, it would give practicing this old thing a purpose."

Of course, if they did offer music classes at Hogwarts, Pansy would probably have complained anyway—she was in her second year at the school, and was currently going through those _magical_ changes. Her breasts were just beginning to show, along with three rather large pimples. Her hips were too wide, and she felt quite awkward in her body. Everything that came out of her mouth was rather cringey, but that's life when you're twelve.

After practicing several scales, including the chromatic scale—which was her least favorite—she decided to pack away her euphonium. It was then that she realized that the abandoned classroom she was using as a practice room wasn't as abandoned as she thought it would be—at least not today.

There, sitting in the chair next to the lamp, was a complete stranger. A girl—probably a first year—with long blonde hair pushed back with a butterfly headband, was staring blankly at Pansy. She was wearing Ravenclaw colors, for which Pansy was grateful. She really didn't want to deal with any Gryffindors—all Slytherins were supposed to hate Gryffindors, after all. At least, that's what the Slytherin Prefect, Lucy, had told her. Ravenclaws were okay, but you had to be careful because they might outsmart you, and Hufflepuffs were so easy to manipulate it was almost insulting. At least, that's what Lucy said.

The two girls had some sort of staring contest for the next moment or so before Pansy spoke up. "Er, hello," she said.

The girl smiled. "Hello," she said rather cheerfully. Pansy liked how her smile reached her eyes.

"What are you doing in my practice room?" Pansy asked, latching her euphonium case shut.

"I didn't realize this was _your_ practice room. I just heard the music and decided I wanted to listen," the other girl said.

"I was only playing scales," Pansy said, furrowing her brows. Scales were boring.

The girl nodded. "I know, but day you were playing a lovely song the other day, and I wanted to see if you were going to play it again."

Pansy tried to recall what she had practiced yesterday. " _Mattinata_?" she asked.

"Oh, I don't know the name of the song," the girl said, "but if you played it for me…" she trailed off. Pansy sighed and took out her euphonium. Even though she had just been playing, she did a quick warm-up and blew the spit out of the spit valve.

She began to play _Mattinata_ , which she'd memorized by now because she'd practiced it so much.

The Ravenclaw girl closed her eyes and relaxed, a dreamy smile creeping onto her face. Pansy's heart skipped a beat.

Of course, because Pansy was only twelve and not used to her heart skipping a beat at the sight of pretty girls, she didn't realize what she had felt was the very beginning of a crush. She just blamed it on the euphonium.

When Pansy finished the song, the girl opened her eyes and beamed. Pansy smiled back rather shyly, and scratched the back of her neck.

"You're a wonderful, er, what's that thing called?" the girl asked.

"A euphonium."

"A euphonium," the girl echoed. "You're very good at it."

Pansy's face flushed. She didn't know how to respond.

"Thank you," she managed to say, her heart going faster than healthy. "I've been playing since I was seven."

"That's impressive," the girl says. "I've always wanted to learn a musical instrument."

"Maybe if you tell me your name, I'll teach you a couple things on the euphonium. Or, if you want, I think there's a piano somewhere on the second floor. I could teach you that as well," Pansy offered.

The girl smiled—she seemed to be a very smiley person. "That sounds wonderful! My name is Luna."

"My name is Pansy," Pansy said, holding her hand out for Luna to shake. Luna grasped her hand lightly, and Pansy felt a little weak in the knees.

She wasn't aware of it yet, but she had just met her other half.

* * *

 **Yeah so that whole soulmate thing is based on Aristophanes's speech from Plato's Symposium. And it inspired that one song from Hedwig and the Angry Inch.**

 **right well, reviews are nice**

 **~Al (littlebluespacemoth)**


	13. Jingle Bell Rock Your Socks Off

**You know how when you're on break you expect to be able to take it easy, listen to some good music, catch up on some knitting, and have plenty of time to write? Because you have nothing else to do? Yeah that didn't happen (I did eat a lot of cookies though) (Also I hope everyone had a happy holiday. Let's hope 2017 isn't shitty)**

 **PROMPTS:**  
 **Personification AND a metaphor**  
 **Dawn**  
 **Sparkly Suit**  
 **Jingle Bell Rock**  
 **Dramione (Which I somehow managed to write a straight Draco)**  
 **Player five**

 **I don't own anything, isn't it great?**

* * *

 **Jingle Bell Rock Your Socks Off**

"Pansy," Draco huffed, blowing hair from his face, "I don't need to attend one of those 'How to Embrace Muggle Culture' classes with you. It's been eight years since the war ended; I'm not one of those 'stuffy purebloods' anymore."

"Draco, darling, you may not be a stuffy pureblood anymore, but you're still clueless when it comes to Muggle culture. Plus, the instructor of the class is a real cutie; you'll love her- she went to Hogwarts, you know. Graduated top of her class. Too bad you went to Durmstrang."

"Stop trying to set me up! Besides, how does Luna feel about you calling other girls cute?"

"She doesn't mind. She thinks the teacher is cute as well," Pansy said indignantly. She crossed her arms in a painfully familiar way and pouted. Draco knew he wasn't going to win this argument.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Alright, I'll attend one of the classes," he said. "Just… don't force anything on me, okay?"

"Great!" Pansy exclaimed, her pout turning into a brilliant smile. "It's on Tuesdays at four. Be there or be square!"

"That makes no sense. Why would I be a square?"

Pansy shrugged. "I don't know, but it's a Muggle saying, apparently."

"Great," Draco grumbled, "this is what I'll be learning."

"Nope!" Pansy said gleefully.

"What?"

"What?"

"What?"

"I didn't say anything!" Pansy blinked innocently.

"Bitch, I know you did."

Pansy gasped. "Draco!" she scolded, swatting his arm. "Watch your language!"

Draco sighed. Yup, this was his life.

* * *

After a long day at work, all Draco wanted to do was to go home and sleep. Except… he had promised Pansy he would attend her stupid Muggle culture class, hadn't he?

Bah. Humbug.

The class was being held in a large recreation center that had a pool, a track, a rock wall, a gym, and small rooms for classes such as the one he was going to attend. Damn, that pool looked nice. What he wouldn't do to go swim a couple laps instead.

He spotted Pansy in the first room on the left and walked in. She squealed when she saw him.

"Oh, Draco! I'm so glad you came! Your presence is a breath of fresh air!"

Draco glared at her. "Stop being so dramatic, woman."

Pansy rolled her eyes and laughed. "Oh, Draco," she tittered. "Why don't you go hang up your coat?"

There was a coat hanger stand in the corner of the room. Draco shed his jacket and received an electric shock as he hung it up. He glared at the offending stand, and the stand glared back.

He sighed. He wasn't in the mood for this.

"So," he said when he was back by Pansy's side, "where's this cute instructor?"

"Right there!" Pansy pointed, and oh my. She was. Really cute. Like. Dirty cute. Like. Love at first sight cute.

That's what it was for Draco. Love at first sight. Bushy hair, large smile, dimples, and an excellent figure, yup. He was a goner. Head over heels for a girl he didn't even know the name of.

"Pansy," he breathed, his mouth agape. "Who _is_ she?"

"Hermione Granger. She's really cute isn't she? So, am I right or am I right?"

"You're wrong. She's _gorgeous_."

Pansy giggled. "I'm still going to count that as a win."

Draco shushed her. "She's starting to talk," he whispered.

"Alright, class!" Hermione said. "Today, we're going to learn how to do a dance to the song 'Jingle Bell Rock,' and what makes this so Muggle is that the dance I'll be teaching you is the one from the hit Muggle movie _Mean Girls_. I think there are a couple of you who were here for when we watched it in September, so hopefully, this will look familiar to you. Alright, let's begin."

After a bit of stretching, Hermione began to teach the class the dance. Pansy was pleased to see that Draco was hanging on to her every word. She was so good at being a matchmaker.

Hermione finished the class by announcing that in three weeks, Dawn Snyder would be hosting a benefit to raise money for a squib orphanage. They would be performing the dance at the benefit, and better yet, they would get to wear sparkly costumes!

While most of the class participants had already left, Pansy and Draco were staying to talk to one Hermione Granger.

Draco could not take his eyes off the woman—her curly brown hair was tied back in a scrunchie with a few stray ringlets framing her sweet face. Her eyes were two pools of chocolate that Draco would be happy to drown in.

"Right, Draco?" he heard Pansy ask and he snapped back to reality.

"Uhhh... yup," Draco said, not really sure what he had agreed to, but it seemed like the right thing to say.

"Fantastic!" Hermione beamed, and Draco swooned.

There was a bit more talking before Pansy dragged Draco out of the classroom and through the recreation center, but Draco wasn't paying attention because he was too busy swooning.

"So," Pansy said when they were outside and Draco could blame his red cheeks on the cold. "What did you think?"

"I need her Floo," Draco muttered to himself. He cleared his throat. "Uh, I mean. Very nice. Yeah. She was. Very nice." He cleared his throat again and adjusted his scarf.

"Hmmm," Pansy hummed. "I'm glad you liked her. I hope you're excited to dance to 'Jingle Bell Rock' in a sparkly suit."

Draco nodded. _For her, anything_ , he thought. Of course, he didn't say this out loud—he didn't need Pansy gushing.

* * *

Twas the night before Christmas- oh shit, I'm sorry, that's the wrong story, isn't it? Ummm… Oh right. Twas the night of the benefit and Draco was sweating profusely. Luckily, it was impossible to tell because of the sparkly, red, _itchy_ , suit he had on. He could not believe he was about to do this. When Hermione called for everyone to go on stage, he ran out with everyone else and took his place, a fake smile on his face.

 _Jingle bell, jingle bell_

 _Jingle bell rock_

 _Jingle bells ring_

 _And jingle bells sing_

 _Snowing and blowing_

 _Up bushels of fun_

 _Now the jingle hop_

 _Has begun_

Draco danced like he had never danced before. Being the only male in the class, he was near the front, but he found he wasn't as embarrassed as he thought he'd be. If his cheeks were a bit red, he could always blame it on the sparkly suit, or maybe even that it was hot up on the stage.

'Jingle Bell Rock' was the closing number of the benefit, so as soon as they were done dancing, and Draco had changed out of the itchy suit, he and Pansy left.

Of course, while they weren't in cahoots, both Draco and Pansy had planned to catch Hermione after the benefit, so naturally, they were both pleased when they ran into her.

"Hi, Hermione," said Pansy with a bright smile. "Draco and I were going to get drinks, do you want to come with?"

"I'd love to," Hermione said.

Then, Luna walked onto the scene. "Hi, baby," she said, greeting Pansy with a kiss. "Let's go home. Seeing you in that dress, well..." The rest she whispered in Pansy's ear, and Pansy's smile got even brighter.

"Um, nevermind on the drinks. See y'all later, bye!" she said, and she ran off, pulling her wife by her hand.

Draco watched her go, scratching the back of his head. He turned back to Hermione.

"So, um," he said, a bit red in the face with nothing to blame it on other than his own emotions. "Do you still want to go get drinks?"

Hermione beamed, brighter than ever. "I'd love to."

* * *

 **So round of applause to my teammates who edited this fic because they're amazing and this would be terrible if it wasn't for them.**

 **Also, round of applause for me for writing a straight Draco who likes Hermione (Dramione is so not a ship I can get behind, no offense to anyone who does ship it)**

 **Leave reviews please cause that's the only way I'll get better, ya know?**

 **Toodles,**

 **Al (littlebluespacemoth)**


	14. Careless Daydreams

**Prompts:  
** **Patented Daydream Charms (not suitable for wizards under 16)  
** **Careless Whisper by George Michael  
** **Word Count (907) (This came out to 907 words in google docs)  
** **"I want to lick his face"**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing**

* * *

"Harry," George said with a mischievous grin, "care to test our new product?"

"Ummm…" Harry gulped nervously. He'd heard stories from Ron, who had tested several of the twins' products. A lot of them had unpleasant, unforeseen consequences, and Harry didn't know if he could deal with those.

"Please, Harry," Fred said, folding his hands and shaking them slightly. "It's harmless—we've already tested it! There are only a few things that we want to figure out. That's why we need you!"

Harry sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, messing the dark locks up even more. "All right."

The twins looked at each other and beamed.

"Fantastic," said Fred, hugging his handy dandy clipboard.

"So, experiment one-" began George.

"One?" Harry asked, wondering if that meant there would be more. George ignored him.

"You're going to use our Patented Daydream Charm while listening to George Michael's _Careless Whisper_ ," George explained.

"Uh… why?" Harry asked nervously.

"We want to see if the music you listen to affects the type of dream you have," Fred explained.

"What type of dream are you hoping for?" Harry asked.

"Uh, we can't hope for any result because _bias_ ," George said, as if it was obvious.

"We do, however, have a hypothesis," Fred said, tapping his wand against his handy dandy clipboard.

Harry sighed. "Let's just get this over with," he said and sat down.

George waved his wand and _Careless Whisper_ started playing. Fred helped Harry enact the charm.

The twins watched as Harry's eyes glazed over as he began to drool.

"Right," George said, "ten minutes of that, and then we'll get to the part that he doesn't know about."

Fred let out a maniacal laugh as he rubbed his hands together.

"Wait," George said, stopping Fred's laughter.

"What?"

"Why doesn't he know about changing the song?"

"Because," Fred huffed, "then he'd be expecting the song change. Then we wouldn't be sure that the song has any influence on the daydream. We're eliminating _bias_ "

"Oh, I see," George said, rubbing at his chin. "I need to shave," he muttered to himself and he went to do so.

After a quick shave and a chocolate frog, George's wand alarm went off. The twins changed the music.

When the sweet sounds of _Takeo Ishii_ reached Harry's ears, he shifted a bit, but otherwise, his eyes remained glazed, and the drooling increased.

Fred took note of Harry's reaction to the music change on his handy dandy clipboard. He and George exchanged smiles—they couldn't wait for the daydream charm to wear off so they could have Harry describe his dream to them in detail.

The twins decided to entertain themselves for the next ten minutes by seeing who could hang a spoon off their nose for the longest amount of time. George won, but only because he used a bit of honey to keep the spoon from falling off. Naturally, they got into an argument, but before either of them could grow mad enough to storm off, the wand alarm sounded, signaling them to change the music.

They put _Careless Whisper_ back on. Harry blinked and smacked his lips, which Fred recorded on his handy dandy clipboard.

Spoon argument forgotten, the twins started discussing plans for an undetectable noise cancelling charm—they were growing sick of _Careless Whisper_.

Ten minutes passed quickly and the twins watched with glee as Harry blinked out of his daydream. He smacked his lips and muttered, "I want to lick his face."

The twins exchanged glances.

"Well, Harry," said Fred, "what was it like?"

Harry thought for a minute. "It started off, and I was on a pink cotton candy cloud with a blonde in tight leather pants and a white flowy shirt. We were dancing—not to _Careless Whisper,_ thank goodness. I couldn't actually hear the song. It was really nice, but then it got weird. All of a sudden, I was on a grassy hill and there were so many _chickens_ and Dr- I mean the blonde was wandering away and he- I mean they- were eating an ice cream sundae and I tried chasing him- them, but I couldn't catch up!"

"Uhuh, very interesting," Fred muttered, writing as fast as he could on his handy dandy clipboard.

"Then what?" George prompted.

"Then I was on a candy boat that was sailing down a chocolate river," Harry said. "I was still chasing after the blonde and I had just managed to catch him- I mean them- when I was forced back into reality."

"Yes, yes," Fred muttered, still scribbling away.

"And the 'I want to lick his face' statement?" George asked.

"Well," Harry said, "he had ice cream on his face." He didn't bother hiding the fact that the daydream person was a man anymore.

"So this dream, it had… underlying sexual themes?" George asked.

Harry blushed and ran his fingers through his messy hair. "Uhh yeah."

"Interesting," Fred muttered. "So definitely not for anyone under… sixteen? Seventeen?"

"Sixteen," George decided. He clapped his hands together. "Well, Harry, thank you very much for your help. Now, if you don't mind, Fred and I have a lot of work to do. I'm sure you can show yourself out."

"Uh, yeah," Harry said and he awkwardly stood up. "Well… so long." He left, and as he did, he decided that he would spend the rest of the day wooing a certain blonde Slytherin, but, excuse the cliche ending, that's another story.

* * *

 **Reviews are always appreciated!**

 **~littlebluespacemoth (Al)**


	15. A Question of Loyalty

**This was weird to write and while I feel like it is my voice shining through I also feel like I had to jump into another person's mind because I've read fics like this before but I don't think I was able to get the same feel. I don't know, you tell me.**

 **Prompts:  
** **Peter Pettigrew's Silver Hand  
** **Matchstick  
** **Sly  
** **Coloring book**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything**

* * *

 **A Question of Loyalty**

Hi, hello, nice to meet you. You can call me Silva, and if you can't be bothered to do that, then you can leave now, please.

That's right, I'm a silver hand. Please, don't try to gender me. I may belong to a man, but that man is also a _rat_ (and I mean that in both the literal and figurative sense) and I most certainly am _not_ a rat; so, don't assume that I am also a man.

Can I even call this rat a man? He has a _coloring book collection,_ for Merlin's sake. Not to mention, he acts like a prepubescent boy in his first relationship around the insane snake man. Rat man is _desperate_ for attention. Plus, he practices making faces in the mirror. In fact, just yesterday he spent most of the afternoon practicing a 'sly smirk', but he ended up looking like a bad porno actor who's trying to be seductive (and trust me, thanks to him, I know what that looks like).

This morning, he's trying to wriggle on an outrageous pair of pants and he can't even see that they're on backwards until he's found his matchbox and used a matchstick to light a candle.

I know what you are thinking. Why is a wizard lighting a candle the Muggle way? Yeah, that is because of me. I replaced his wand hand and now he's having trouble casting spells. He can do a simple warming charm, but that's about it. That snake man is really pissed off about it. I would be out of a job if it wasn't for all the sucking up the rat does.

Anyway, today, the rat man got called in for the same trivial task that he always has to do: milk venom from the snake man's pet snake, Nagini.

Golly gee whiz, do you know what it's like to milk venom from a snake? It's not very easy, you know. I am the hand that has to push the gosh darn snake's fang's through the thin sheet of film! Nagini is huge and evil and wiggles around a lot making it extremely difficult.

My life would probably be a lot easier if I didn't belong to rat man. Could I ever leave him, though?

I don't know.

I don't know?

I have been teeth, daggers, jewelry, part of a chalice, a lot of things really. This is my first time as a limb and I have to say, it really isn't for me.

Gosh. I have never been disloyal. I have complied with every master's every wish—I am loyal, okay? Best in the business, in fact. But this rat man…

Look, I can do evil, okay? I've done it before. I'll do it again. I have no qualms with the snake man. Cowardliness and disloyalty, yeah, I've seen it in small numbers. This rat man, though, his numbers? Not so small.

I know, I'm doing a poor job of justifying my thoughts to you. But… I don't know if I can deal with this.

* * *

I snapped.

What?

Oh, sorry. I know it's been awhile since we've been able to talk. You know, with the war and all, I've been busy serving the rat man and the snake man and milking Nagini and all that.

I mean, as things grew more extreme, we were called upon to do more tasks. This is when I really got to know the rat man.

I grew to miss the days when I despised him because of the outrageous pants, the bad porn, the coloring books, and so on and so forth.

As the tasks grew more difficult, I grew more aware of just how much of a coward the rat man was.

One day, I snapped. I strangled him.

Am I ashamed of my actions?

I don't know.

I don't think so.

The snake man's enemy, his number one target, he was right there with some redhead. He said a few things. I don't remember what. The rat man was going to kill him—strangle him using me. I was okay with that, you know? I've it said before and I'll say it again—I can do evil. I have killed many just for the pleasure of killing, all to serve my master.

But rat man… he hesitated. I knew he would, damn it. I knew he was too much of a child, a coward, a fuck up. How am I supposed to serve a fuck up? I have morals!

Yeah, okay. So maybe there was something about rat man owing enemy number one a life debt. I don't know. I don't care. Maybe I served the snake man more than the rat man—after all the snake man did have me crafted for the rat man.

I just...

It was the heat of the moment okay?

Every day, I became more aware of his cowardice. Every day, I grew more ashamed to be attached to such a creature, to such a- such a _rat_. How could I not strangle him?

And now…

Now I am stuck with him until his body decays and nothing is left. Or maybe someone will come and take me away from him and turn me into something else. I can only hope.

But don't worry about me, okay? I'll be fine. I've been in worse situations. And this time I have attached to a dead man's body, well, it will give me some time to reflect about the hand I played in his death.

* * *

 **So tell me what you think because as I mentioned before, I've never written a fic like this before.**

 **~Al (littlebluespacemoth)**


	16. Whose Line is it Anyway Hogwarts Edition

**Yes so I love the show Whose Line is it Anyway? but golly do you know how hard it is to write improv?**

 **Prompts:  
-Claustrophobia  
-Gloves  
-Boggart  
-'We all could have been killed- or worse, expelled' but Hermione can't say it**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything**

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Whose Line is it Anyway? Hogwarts Edition!

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," Headmistress McGonagall addressed the large crowd of witches and wizards crowded in the Great Hall. "As I'm sure you all know, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry took a hard hit during the Second Wizarding War," she sighs, "and so, to raise money, the students have organized this fundraiser. It is my honor to welcome you to 'Whose Line is it Anyway? Hogwarts Edition!'"

The crowd cheered, and that was Harry's cue to play the opening theme of 'Whose Line is it Anyway?' Up front, Ginny pulled open the curtains that were covering the area where the professors usually sat as they ate.

Upon the makeshift stage sat George Weasley at a desk, shuffling his cards. In four chairs across the back sat Draco Malfoy, Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom, and Luna Lovegood. There were a couple bins of props, a piano, and four stools off to the side of the stage. The tech crew had tried to make it look like the actual set of the muggle show, and Harry thought they had done a pretty good job.

When the opening theme finished, George introduced each of them, making a joke about the length of their wands—apparently, Luna had the biggest wand out of all of them.

The first half of the show went off without a hitch. Harry only had to adjust George's microphone twice—yes, they were using microphones. It was part of a new program at Hogwarts that was dedicated to understanding muggle technology better.

Harry was extremely pleased to be working the sound system. A lot of people had wanted him to perform in the show, but neither improv nor cameras were really his thing. He was contributing to the school from behind the scenes. Besides, there were only five performing spots, and though he didn't say anything, Harry was pretty certain that Ron really wanted a chance to make a show of his skills.

After the intermission, George decided to start off the second act with a game that involved Ron and Neville.

"In this game," George said, "I'm going to give Ron and Neville scraps of paper that they're going to put in their pocket. On the scraps of paper are lines that you, the audience members, suggested. I'm also going to give them a scene and during the scene they're going to have to use the lines written on the papers and it's going to be fantastic!" George gave a small chuckle and picked up his cards. "Okay, so Ron, you're going to be a boggart who has claustrophobia, and Neville, you're going to be a student who tries to get him over the fear. Got it?"

"Uh, think so," Ron said, scratching his head. The audience laughed.

The two took center stage. Neville pretended to walk up to Ron and gave a small, high-pitched scream when he saw the redhead.

"Professor Snape!" Neville exclaimed, and Harry quickly adjusted Neville's microphone. The audience burst into laughter; a lot of people seemed to know about Neville's first time with a boggart. "Oh, wait," Neville said. "You can't be Professor Snape; I just came from Potions! You must be a boggart! What are you doing out of the closet?"

"Would you believe I'm claustrophobic?" Ron asked in his best Professor Snape voice, which prompted another round of laughs from the audience.

"A claustrophobic boggart?" Neville exclaimed while pulling a slip of paper out of his pocket. "Why, that's like-" and he made a face before he read the line off his paper. "Why, that's like being slathered in whipped cream and tied to a broom stick."

The audience burst into laughter, and Harry chuckled along. These games were brilliant.

Ron gave a sad nod. "Yes," he said gravely. "It is that exact reason why I'm so scared of closets."

"You know," Neville said, "I once met another boggart who was scared of closets as well. You know what he told me?" Neville fished another piece of paper out of his pocket. "He said to me, 'We all could have been killed- or worse, expelled.'"

Everyone who knew Hermione burst into laughter. Harry was laughing so hard he was in tears, and Ron was struggling to hide his laughter and stay in character.

"Do you suppose you could help me?" Ron asked.

"How do you suggest I do that?" Neville asked.

"By-" this time, Ron pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket- "By giving a pterodactyl a pedicure."

"And that would work?" Neville asked eagerly.

"It better work. Otherwise, I'm going to-" and Ron pulled out another scrap of paper- "I'm going to drop my gloves and whip out my hockey stick semicolon end parentheses."

The audience roared with laughter at the obvious innuendo. Ron was flushing a bright red, and Neville looked as if he didn't know what to say.

Luckily for the both of them, George buzzed in and ended the scene.

"Semicolon end parentheses?" George asked Ron as he sat back down.

"That's what it said," Ron said, shrugging.

"I, uh, think they wanted you to wink," George said.

"Oh," Ron said, and turned towards the audience and winked. There were a few wolf whistles that brought back the flush to Ron's face. Neville pretended to swoon.

For the rest of the night, there were semicolon end parentheses jokes, as well as jokes about whipping out your hockey stick. Harry decided that the smile on Ron's face at the end of the night was worth more than all the money the fundraiser had made.

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 **Please review**

 **~Al (littlebluespacemoth)**

 **Also, I would just like to say thank you to my wonderful teammates for their help in editing.**


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